hbl,  stx 


D       919.T542 
Outdoor  life  in  Europe  :  or, 


3   T153    DQ522T53    1 


D 

919 

T542 


OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE, 


Sketches  of  Seyen  Summers  Abroad. 


REV.  EDWARD  P.  THW1NG,  M.D.,   PH.D., 


FELLOW     OF      THE    LONDON    SOCIETY    OF     SCIENCE,    LETTEKS    AND     ART, 

MEMBER    BRITISH    MEDICAL    ASSOCIATION,  N.    Y     ACADEMY   OF 

SCIENCES.  ACADEMY  OF   ANTHROPOLOGY,  ETC. 


NEW    YORK: 
HURST   &   CO.,  Publishebs, 

122  Nassau   Street. 


V 


•ARGYLE    PRESS, 

Printing  and  bookbinding, 
2*  4  26  wooster  st.,  n.  y. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Pi.au. 

Ireland  and  the  Irish,    .....         5 

CHAPTER  II. 
Scotland,  ....  25 

CHAPTER  III. 
England  and  Wales,       .....       41 

CHAPTER  IV. 
France  and  Belgium,  ....  79 

CHAPTER  V. 
Holland  and  Germany,   .....       88 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Switzerland,  .....  102 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Italy,  .  .  .  .  •  .  .       139 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Land  of  the  Midnight  Sun,      .  .  .205 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Glimpses  of  Finland,  Russia,  and  Denmark,  .       220 

CHAPTER  X. 

Sunny  Spain,     ......  237 


OUT-DOOR   LIFE    IN   EUROPE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

Ireland  and  the  Irish. 

"  All  ashore  for  Queenstown  !  "  was  a  welcome  call 
after  nine  days  at  sea.  We  had  had  a  large  and  pleasant 
company,  and  the  enjoyment  of  abundant  comforts.  Two 
weeks  were  now  to  be  given  to  the  beautiful  Emerald 
Isle. 

Nothing  more  delicious  could  be  desired  than  the  dawn 
of  that  dewy  June  morning  we  landed.  All  was  beauty 
and  freshness.  "Jocund  day  stood  tiptoe  on  the  misty 
mountain  top."  The  solid  earth  under  our  feet  seemed 
good  to  tread  upon,  and  the  green  fields  and  blue  heavens 
wore  a  loveliness  we  could  not  describe.  Hungry  as  we 
were,  some  of  the  party  at  once  started  to  see  the  sun  rise 
from  the  heights  of  Queenstown  and  to  enjoy  a  landscape 
which  an  Eastern  traveler  compares  to  the  Bosphorus. 
They  came  back  loaded  with  evergreen,  ivy  leaves,  daisies 
and  buttercups.  After  an  ordinary  breakfast,  at  an  extra- 
ordinary price,  at  "  The  European,"  we  rode  by  rail  to 
Cork,  a  short  but  charming  ti"ip  along  the  winding  Lee, 
through  meadows  where  sheep  and  oxen  fed,  by  humble, 
whitewashed  cottages  and  lordly  castles,  quaint  villages 
and  ancient  ruins,  until  we  reached 

THE    CITY    OF   CORK. 

An  Irish  nobleman  once  asked  Foote,  at  whose  table 
wine  flowed  freely,  if  he  had  been  to  see  Cork.     "  No,  my 


6  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

lord,  but  I've  seen  many  drawings  of  it  this  evening  ! " 
Core  was  a  native  monarch.  Some,  however,  derive  the 
name  from  Corcagh,  a  swamp,  the  city  being  founded  by 
the  Danes,  on  several  marshy  islands.  Two  hundred  years 
ago  these  were  drained  and  consolidated,  and  other  im- 
provements made.  Lord  Orrery's  letter  to  Dean  Swift,  in 
1736,  does  not,  indeed,  natter  the  place  or  people,  for  he 
says,  "  materials  for  a  letter  are  as  hard  to  be  found  as 
money,  sense,  honesty,  or  truth  ! "  The  great  painter, 
James  Barry,  left  here  in  boyhood,  never  to  return. 
"  Cork  gave  me  breath,  but  never  would  have  given  me 
bread,"  he  said.  Camden,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  says 
that  "  it  is  a  pretty  town,  well  peopled,  but  so  beset  with 
rebels  they  faine  keepe  alwaies  a  set  watch  and  ward,  and 
dare  not  marrie  their  daughters  forth  into  the  country,  but 
make  marriages  one  with  another,  whereby  all  the  citizens 
are  linked  together."  The  military  importance  of  the 
place  in  the  days  of  the  Stuarts  is  pictured  in  the  old 
rhyme  : 

"  Limerick  was,  Dublin  is,  but  Cork  will  be 
The  greatest  city  of  the  three." 

Spenser,  with  photographic  fidelity,  describes  the  "  is- 
land fair "  enclosed  by  "  The  spreading  Lee,  with  his 
divided  flood." 

We  found  Cork  an  attractive  place  as  we  rode  in  a  jaunt- 
ing car,  three  of  us  for  two  shillings,  through  the  city  and 
out  into  the  suburbs,  stopping  now  and  then  to  make  closer 
inspection.  The  jaunting,  or  jolting,  car,  is  a  unique  con- 
trivance; each  side  of  the  car  folds  up  like  the  lid  of  a  trunk. 
You  sit  directly  over  the  wheel.  Like  medicine,  you  are 
sure  "  to  be  well  shaken,  before  taken  "  to  your  destina- 
tion. 

The  statue  of  the  great  reformer,  Father  Mathew,  recalled 
a  wonderful  era  in  the  temperance  reform,  when  "  The 
whisky  trade  was  almost  annihilated,  when  penal  convic- 
tions decreased  about  one-half   between  the  years    1839 


IRELAND  AND   THE  IRISH.  1 

and  1845,  and  capital  sentences  from  66  to  14.  Orangeman 
and  Papist,  Whig  and  Tory,  joined  in  praise  of  the  noble 
Capuchin,  and  ovations  were  had  wherever  he  went." 

St.  Finnebar's  Cathedral  is  named  after  its  founder,  who, 
in  the  seventh  century,  reared  a  monastery  on  the  site  of  a 
pagan  temple.  St.  Anne's  steeple  holds  the  famous  bells  of 
Shandon — Sean  dun,  or  old  fort.  The  poem  of  "  Father 
Prout "  is  similar  to  the  Latin  rhymes  beginning, 

Sabbata  pango, 
Funera  plan  go, 
Solemnia  clango. 

We  stood  beneath  the  lofty  tower,  and  listened  with  de- 
light ; 

"dwelling 
On  each  proud  swelling 
Of  the  belfry  knelling 
Its  bold  notes  free." 

Opposite  is  the  butter  storehouse,  near  which  scores  of  un- 
washed Cork-onians  stopped  to  stare  at  us  as  we  stopped  to 
stare  at  the  steeple. 

Sunday's  Well,  bearing  the  date  1644,  was  full  of  in- 
terest. These  holy  wells,  in  quiet  nooks,  shaded  by  elm  or 
sycamore,  are  numerous  in  Ireland.  They  are  often  walled 
or  hooded  over,  and  have  shrines  near  by.  Healing  virtues 
are  attributed  to  the  waters.  Southey  has  a  ballad  on  the 
well  of  St.  Keyne.  The  grounds  of  Queen's  College,  the 
Grand  Parade  and  the  Mardyke,  an  avenue  of  statety  shade 
trees,  were  also  visited.  A  few  minutes'  ride  by  rail  brought 
us  to 

BLARNEY  CASTLE. 

Mr.  Timothy  Mahoney,  brother  of  the  poet  just  quoted, 
kindly  took  us  in  his  carriage  to  his  Tweed  Mills,  where  450 
persons  are  employed  preparing  the  wool  for  cloths  and  for 
hose.  He  also  secured  our  entrance  to  the  castle,  as  we, 
through  ignorance,  had  not  taken  the  needed  permit  before 
leaving  Cork.  This  ancient  estate,  the  home  of  the  Mac- 
Carty  family  for  four  hundred  years,  is  full  of  picturesque 


8  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

beauty,  with  purling  brooks  decked  with  daffodil  and  lily  ; 
groves  of  beeches,  with  gravel  walks  and  shady  bowers  ; 
caves  of  bats  and  badgers,  but  above  all,  renowned  for  the 
Blarney  stone,  near  the  top  of  a  donjon  120  feet  high.  Says 
Croker,  "  It  is  supposed  to  give  to  him  who  kisses  it  the 
privilege  of  deviating  from  veracity  with  unblushing 
countenance  whenever  it  may  be  convenient."  The  Lord 
of  Blarney  duped  Carew,  the  English  governor,  who  besieged 
the  place  in  1602,  hence  the  tradition. 

Our  guide  pointed  out  the  stone,  and  a  D.D.,  M.D.,  and 
Ph.D.,  devoutly  got  upon  their  knees  and  gave  a  fervent 
oscular  salutation  to  the  rock.  The  writer  declined  to  unfit 
himself  for  the  authorship  of  "  Outdoor  Life  in  Europe," 
by  securing  this  dangerous  gift,  and  so  simply  touched  the 
stone  and  came  away  unanointed.  After  all,  the  "  raal 
stone  "  is  twenty  feet  below  the  summit,  inaccessible,  and 
bears  a  Latin  inscription  with  the  date  1446.  The  guide, 
in  consideration  of  the  silver  shilling  entrance  fee,  con- 
siderately locates  these  stones  where  they  will  do  the  most 
good,  and  so  humors  the  visitor  by  pointing  out  the  one 
which  has  the  date  1703. 

A  sprinkling  of  the  Shannon  at  Limerick,  a  few  days 
after,  secured  to  me  the  more  desirable  gift  of  "civil 
courage,"  which  those  waters,  it  is  claimed,  will  impart  to 
all  who  take  a  dip. 

An  hour's  walk  about  the  neighborhood,  picking  ferns, 
studying  flora,  and  feasting  on  the  sequestered  loveliness  of 
the  place,  was  followed  by  a  relishable  meal  in  a  peasant's 
cottage.  The  quaint  surroundings  and  pleasant  words  ex- 
changed will  not  be  soon  forgotten. 

THE  KILLARNEY  LAKES. 

The  first  night  ashore  was  spent  in  this  paradise  of  beauty. 
Mr.  Spillane,  Kenmare  Place,  to  whom  our  party  of  four 
had  been  commended,  gave,  lis  neat,  comfortable  quarters  at 
reasonable    rates  —  bed    and    breakfast     three    shillings, 


IRELAND  AND   THE  IRISH.  9 

other  things  in  proportion.  Private  lodgings  are  to  be 
preferred  to  a  first-class  hotel,  where  one  impoverished 
victim  told  us  that  he  found  "  it  cost  fourpence  to  open 
your  mouth  and  tup'ence  to  shut  it." 

The  day  we  spent  on  the  lakes  was  one  of  mingled  sun- 
shine and  showers.  "  Happy  Jack  "  acted  as  guide,  boat- 
man, and  bugler.  He  was  aided  by  his  son,  and  his  entire 
charge  was  but  eight  shillings  for  the  company,  the  round 
boat  trip  being  twenty-eight  miles.  "We  had  not  the  fear 
of  Thackeray  before  us,  who  said  that  the  man  was  an 
ass  who  attempted  this  circuit  in  a  day. 

ROSS    CASTLE 

Was  our  point  of  eparture,  a  picturesque  ruin,  which  re- 
called the  remark  made  to  one  who,  about  to  publish  some 
views  of  Irish  scenery,  asked,  "  To  whom  shall  I  dedicate 
my  prints  ? "  The  reply  was,  "  If  your  dedication  is 
prompted  by  gratitude,  no  one  deserves  it  more  than 
Oliver  Cromwell,  whose  cannon  have  made  so  many  dilap- 
idated buildings  for  you." 

This  castle,  five  hundred  yeai-s  ago,  was  the  home  of  the 
lordly  O'Donoghues,  and  now,  it  is  said,  every  seven  years 
one  of  the  chiefs  returns  to  earth  and  drives  his  milk-white 
steeds  across  the  lake  at  sunrise,  his  castle  being  restored 
by  enchantment  the  moment  the  sun  appears  above  the 
woods.  The  tourist  sees  one  of  the  white  horses  in  the  lime- 
stone rock,  strangely  cut  out  by  nature's  chiseling  ;  also  a 
library  of  huge  volumes,  quite  real  in  appearance  and  ar- 
rangement, the  moss  giving  to  the  stony  books  a  morocco 
binding,  as  it  seems  to  dress  the  "round  of  beef,"  further 
on,  with  parsley.  An  old  warrior's  footprints,  his  boat  up- 
side down,  a  mammoth  cannon,  and  other  curious  deceits 
are  pointed  out.  The  red  deer  now  look  shyly  out  at  us 
and  disappear  in  the  everglade  ;  the  gentle  plover  and  the 
eagle  that  loves  the  hills,  pass  by  ;  our  happy  rowers  time 
their  strokes  with  joyous  song,  and  the  "  Prince  of  Wales  " 
cuts  through  the  water  as  gracefully  as  when  he  of  royal 


10  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

blood,  whose  name  it  bears,  was  borne  along  by  it  amid 
these  same  enchanting  scenes. 

"  Sweet  Innisf  alien,"  of  which  Moore  has  written,  charmed 
with  its  varied  loveliness,  but  more  than  all  on  account  of 
the  lore  of  thirteen  centuries  which  has  thrown  a  beauty 
about  it  like  the  moss  and  ivy  on  its  decaying  ruins.  We 
rambled  about  the  crumbling  cloisters,  the  graveyard,  and 
chapel  of  the  ancient  monastery  ;  saw  where  the  monks  ate, 
and  where  they  walked  under  the  shade  of  holly,  ash,  and 
yew  ;  or  looked  out  from  the  embowering  arbutus  tree  of 
dark,  shining  leaf  and  saw  the  misty  peaks  of  Glena  and  the 
Purple  Mountains.  Brief  but  copious  showers  were  inter- 
spersed with  sunshine. 

We  entered  the  Gap  of  Dunloe,  a  romantic  valley,  at- 
tended by  the  usual  escort  of  peasant  girls,  importunate 
venders  of  milk,  of  whisky,  and  of  lamb's  wool  hose. 
On  our  return  to  Ross  Castle  our  bugler  blew  blasts 
that  woke  the  echoes  among  the  hills,  as  we  glided  along 
under  their  lengthening  shadows.  We  saw  young  Lord 
Kenmare  fishing.  Jack  says  that  the  Kenmare  mansion 
cost  £260,000,  and  has  been  honored  by  the  occupancy  of 
Her  Majesty  in  1861.  On  landing  we  were  again  sur- 
rounded by  sellers  of  various  bric-a-brac  made  of  arbutus 
wood.  The  evening  hours  were  enlivened  by  choice  music 
by  a  youthful  composer,  the  daughter  of  our  host.  The 
pouring  rain  prevented  a  morning  visit  to  Muckross  Abbey 
and  other  localities.     A  few  hours  distant  is 

LIMERICK. 

A  thousand  years  ago  the  Danish  settlers  founded  this 
town,  and  ever  since  in  story  and  in  song  it  has  occu- 
pied a  most  interesting  place.  A  quiet  stroll  alone 
through  its  streets  and  suburbs,  chatting  with  the  people 
here  and  there  ;  a  glance  into  shops  and  houses,  castles  and 
churches  ;  a  pull  across  the  waters  of  the  noble  Shannon, 
and  an  evening  ride  outside  the  ancient  city  walls  as  the 
vesper  bells  were  ringing  loud  and  clear  from  Mt.  St.  Vin- 


IRELAND  AND   THE  IRISH.  11 

cent ;  a  lunch  in  the  park,  amid  the  pleasant  shouts  of 
romping  children,  and  a  visit  to  the  chapel  of  the  Domin- 
icans— these  outline  a  pleasant  visit  at  Limerick. 

Around  the  docks,  among  the  barracks,  amid  the  con- 
vents and  monasteries,  along  the  avenues  of  fashion  and  in 
the  lower  precincts  of  the  city,  an  ever-changing  picture  of 
outdoor  Irish  life  presented  itself,  full  of  suggestiveness. 
Here  were  loads  of  deal  or  lumber  grown  in  the  woods  of 
Maine,  and  queer-looking  carts  with  handles  projecting  a 
yard  behind,  as  if  the  cart  were  to  be  carried  by  hand  ; 
queerer-looking  donkeys  of  Irish  and  of  Spanish  breed, 
the  size  of  whose  ears  indicated  prodigious  intellect,  if  this, 
as  some  claim,  be  a  gauge  ;  loads  of  peat  fuel  at  the  doors 
of  the  poor  ;  old  dames  hanging  out  their  washing  on  the 
castle  fence  ;  bare-legged  female  beggars  in  long  pelisses, 
and  blind  fiddlers,  sometimes  called  "  door-scrapers."  Here 
were  country  milkmaids,  driving  home  again  their  rude 
carts,  having  filled  their  empty  firkins  with  bread,  and 
there  were  red-coated  artillerymen  loitering  about  the 
river  banks.  At  the  end  of  Thomond  Bridge  was  the 
stone  of  "The  Violated  Treaty,"  on  which,  in  1691,  was 
signed  the  surrender  of  Limerick  to  William  of  Orange. 

ROADSIDE    SKETCHES. 

Here  are  pictures  from  real  life.  See  that  peasant  with 
her  pack  of  peat  or  "  paraters  "  on  her  back.  Her  dress 
is  somewhat  abbreviated,  and  there  seems  to  be  little  dan- 
ger from  corns  on  account  of  tight  boots.  Her  hair  drops 
over  her  forehead,  giving  the  same  air  of  stupidity  to  the 
face  that  her  silly  sisters  ape,  over  the  sea.  Her  child,  in 
rags,  sits  by  the  roadside.  He,  too,  has  little  superfluous 
clothing.  Poor  people,  let  us  follow  them  home  and  see 
where  they  live. 

It  is  a  wretched  hovel.  The  walls  are  stone,  the  roof 
straw-thatched  and  ready  to  fall  in.  You  see  hundreds  of 
these  huts  roofless  and  deserted,  the  agent  of  the  lord  who 
owns  them  having  pulled  down  the  yielding  roof  before  it 


12  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

should  crush  the  inmates.  When  occupied,  a  little  window 
lets  in  light,  and  a  stump  of  a  chimney  shows  where  smoke 
ought  to  come  out,  if  the  people  can  afford  a  fire.  The 
puddle  and  rubbish  by  the  door  help  to  sicken,  as  hunger 
does  to  weaken.  I  have  eaten  a  relishable  meal  in  a  low, 
one-story  stone  cottage,  where  neatness  and  thrift  pre- 
vailed ;  where  the  bread  and  butter  were  sweet  and  the 
milk  was  creamy.  But  the  condition  of  the  peasant  varies 
with  the  conduct  of  the  proprietor. 

Ignorance,  intemperance,  and  shiftlessness  prevail,  and 
consequent  starvation.  Under  the  blighting  influence  of 
superstition  and  serfdom  in  which  many  live,  suffering  must 
ensue.  America  once  sent  ships  with  food.  They  need  it. 
They  want  "  'taters  rather  than  agitators."  We  can  at 
least  pray  that  wise  counsel  may  prevail  in  England,  and 
that  the  enormous  wealth  that  is  held  in  the  hands  of  a  few 
may  be  justly  and  generously  employed  in  the  education 
and  enfranchisement  of  those  who  are  down-trodden,  priest- 
ridden,  and  consequently  either  hopelessly  despondent  or 
the  tool  of  demagogues  who  excite  them  to  lawless  violence 
and  bloodshed. 

A  talk  with  a  toll-man  on  Wellesley  Bridge  revealed 
some  of  the  unabated  hostility  towards  the  English,  which 
since  has  flamed  out  in  riots.  In  the  evening,  that  is,  about 
10  p.m.,  when  it  was  too  dark  to  write  without  a  lamp,  the 
piano  at  the  hotel  furnished  entertainment.  A  guest,  at- 
tracted by  the  music,  came  to  me  and  requested  "  Yankee 
Doodle,"  saying  that  he  was  born  in  Ireland,  but  his  sym- 
pathies were  with  America,  where  he  had  long  lived.  The 
old  melody  was  played,  evidently  to  his  sincere  gratifi- 
cation. 

"  Look  here,  chambermaid,  those  sheets  don't  look  very 
clean,"  I  said,  on  entering  the  room  designated  for  my 
night's  repose.  "  Oh,  yes  !  "  was  the  good-natured  reply, 
"we  always  change  the  sheets  every  fortnight !  "  "Ah! 
you  do  ?  Then  fourteen  different  persons  can  use  the  same 
sheets  ?  "     "  Every  fortnight  they  are  fresh  and  clean,"  was 


IRELAND  AND   THE  IRISH.  13 

all  the  maid  replied.  The  outside  of  that  bed,  rather  than 
the  inside,  was  used  that  night.  Nevertheless  the  next  day- 
there  was  a  lively  cutaneous  irritation. 

DUBLIN. 

Time  has  made  notable  changes  in  this,  as  in  other  places 
visited.  Trams  run  in  the  streets,  and  numerous  architect- 
ural improvements  are  seen.  But  no  such  weather  was 
known  in  1855.  The  papers  said  the  mean  temperature 
was  about  fifty-eight,  decidedly  "  mean."  The  term  "  sum- 
mer "  was  but  bitter  irony  for  a  season  so  cold  and  con- 
tinuously wet  as  was  that  of  1879.  Again,  I  had  the 
satisfaction  of  attending  divine  service  at  Christ  Church 
Cathedral,  and  of  reviving  the  memories  of  this  ancient 
pile.  While  Canon  Hartley  was  reading  a  little  homily,  or 
sermonette,  sixteen  minutes  long,  my  thoughts  recalled  the 
history  of  other  days.  This  edifice  was  begun  1038,  and 
was  founded  on  arches  built  by  Danes  for  storage  of  mer- 
chandise. Epochs  like  the  battle  of  Hastings,  1066  ;  the 
Crusades,  the  discovery  of  America,  the  age  of  Elizabeth, 
of  the  Bourbons  and  the  Stuarts,  of  the  Huguenots  and 
Puritans,  the  American  Revolution,  and  later  events  passed 
rapidly  through  the  mind  and  made  the  age  and  venerable- 
ness  of  the  edifice  to  stand  in  impressive  contrast  with  the 
brevity  and  transitoriness  of  human  life. 

The  verger  told  me  that  £350,000  had  been  spent  in  re- 
cent restorations,  and  that  only  the  transept  walls  re- 
mained of  the  original  structure.  The  music,  as  usual,  was 
the  most  attractive  feature  of  the  service.  At  St.  Pat- 
rick's, also,  the  cathedral  singing  was  very  elaborate.  Two 
evening  meetings  I  attended  in  the  elegant  structure  be- 
longing to  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  and  also  participated  in  a  union 
sacramental  service  in  the  Baptist  church,  with  Congrega- 
tional, Baptist,  and  Presbyterian  clergy.  Dr.  Eccles  very 
courteously  took  me  to  his  residence  at  Rathmines,  and 
desired  my  company  on  a  week's  excursion  to  Lough  Neah, 
which  pleasure  could  not  be  enjoyed,  as  other  engagements 


14  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

were  to  be  met.  Similar  courtesies  extended  by  Professor 
Houghton  of  the  University,  Sir  William  Stokes  and 
others  during  the  session  of  the  British  Medical  Associa- 
tion, 1887,  were,  for  the  same  reason,  declined. 

HOWTH    CASTLE 

is  reached  in  a  few  minutes  by  rail  from  Dublin.  It  is  well 
worth  a  visit,  if  one  is  interested  in  baronial  and  ecclesias- 
tical antiquities,  battle-fields,  cromlechs  and  Druidic  re- 
mains. This  "  Marathon  of  Ireland  "  attracts  also  the  geol- 
ogist, naturalist,  and  marine  artist,  who  find  along  the 
rocky  bay  and  lofty  promontory,  among  sepulchral  cairn  and 
ancient  fortress,  abundant  materials  for  study  and  enjoy- 
ment. A  half  day  remained  for  a  tour  of  fifty  miles  to  Ark- 
low  through  the  charming  County  of  Wicklow,  and  the 
sweet  vale  of  Avoca,  about  which  Thomas  Moore  has 
thrown  an  ineffaceable  charm: 

"Oh!  the  last  rays  of  feeling  and  of  life  must  depart, 
Ere  the  bloom  of  that  valley  shall  fade  from  my  heart. 
There  is  not  in  the  wide  world  a  valley  so  sweet 
As  that  vale  in  whose  bosom  the  bright  waters  meet." 

For  miles  the  train  ran  by  the  rocky  shore,  with  foam- 
ing breakers  on  one  side  and  beautiful  meadows  on  the 
other;  while  mountains,  shadowy  glens,  dark  tunnels, 
ruined  monasteries  and  castles,  gay  seaside  villas,  and  old 
farmhouses  diversified  the  way.  The  white  hawthorne, 
the  scarlet  gorse,  the  daisy  and  buttercup,  the  fields  of 
ripening  flax,  and  the  deep  velvet  green  of  sward  and 
hedge,  combined  to  make  the  rural  scenery  of  that  June 
day  delightful  in  the  extreme.  Nor  were  the  people  the 
least  interesting  to  study  in  their  varied  aspects.  When 
David  Wilkie  travelled  this  island  he  found  a  mine  un- 
worked  in  his  department  of  art.  He  found  faces  in  which 
Velasquez,  Murillo  and  Salvator  Rosa  would  have  delighted. 
So  Scott  saw,  and  sung  of  Ireland's  charms;  Croker,  Carl- 
ton, Sullivan,  Doyle,  Hall  and  a  score  of  other  authors  pre- 
sent engaging  views  of  social  life  and  old-time  legends. 


IRELAND  AND   THE  IRISH.  15 

"The  Seven  Churches,"  built  by  St.  Kevin,  who  was 
born  in  the  year  498,  form,  perhaps,  the  most  attractive 
feature  of  the  antiquities  of  the  Wicklow  district.  The 
ruins  of  an  ancient  city  of  learning  remain,  prominent 
among  which  is  the  Round  Tower,  one  of  the  most  perfect 
in  Ireland.  Some  regard  these  towers  as  treasure  houses, 
others  as  steeples  or  watch  towers,  but  the  probability  is 
that  they  were  bell  towers.  Tradition  makes  them  the 
resort  of  pagan  worship  long  before  St.  Patrick's  day. 
The  Druid  climbed  the  top  and  watched  the  day  dawn. 
At  the  first  glimpse  of  the  sun  rising  over  the  hills  he  cried 
"  Baal "  to  each  quarter  of  the  heavens.  The  skylarks  were 
the  only  signal  that  called  the  workmen  who  builded  the 
Seven  Churches.  A  beautiful  blue-eyed  maid  was  enam- 
ored of  St.  Kevin  and  begged  to  live  by  him,  though  only 
to  lie  at  his  feet.  He  sought  relief  by  retiring  to  a  stony 
nook,  still  pointed  out,  but  as  he  woke,  there  stood  the 
youthful  tempter.  Unlike  St.  Anthony,  the  saint  clasped 
her,  not  in  love,  but  in  desperation,  hurled  her  into  the 
lake  below,  where  she  was  drowned. 

Dashing  on  through  woods  of  pine,  of  oak,  and  juniper, 
where  leaping  cascades  and  foaming  rivers  run,  we  reach 
Arklow,  where  the  Cistercian  monks  founded  a  monastery 
600  years  ago.  The  picturesque  ruins  of  the  castle  of  the 
Ormunds  attracted  my  attention,  and  I  sketched  a  view  of 
the  ivy-clad  walls  which  Cromwell's  cannon  demolished  in 
1649.  The  little  village  of  Lissoy  or  Auburn  is  near  Ath- 
lone,  two  or  three  hours'  ride  west  from  Dublin,  and  de- 
serves a  visit  by  all  who  have  read  the  "Deserted 
Village." 

CAELINGFORD   BAT. 

Six  days  gave  me  a  pleasant  acquaintance  with  this  de- 
lightful district.  From  Dublin  the  route  leads  through 
localities  of  special  attractiveness  to  the  scholar,  the  artist, 
and  the  antiquarian.  The  valley  of  the  Boyne  is  one  of 
the  best  agricultural  districts  in  Ireland,  and  ancient  his- 


16  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

torical  castles,  priories,  and  round  towers  abound  as  relics 
of  olden  time.  The  Skerries,  Carlingford  and  Mourne 
mountains  are  prominent  among  the  objects  along  the 
coast,  also  Drogheda  and  Dundalk.  The  Hill  of  Tara, 
where  Irish  kings  once  gathered  and  sweet  minstrels  made 
music  in  their  ears,  recalls  the  verses  of  Moore  about 

"  The  harp  that  once  through  Tara's  halls 
The  soul  of  music  shed." 

The  coronation  stone  is  now  in  Westminster  Abbey. 
Mellifont  Abbey,  Danish  and  Druidic  remains,  and  the 
battle-field  of  the  Boyne  deserve  a  visit.  It  happened  to 
be  the  189th  anniversary,  and  as  we  crossed  the  stream  an 
elderly  man,  who  had  studied  the  topographical  facts  of 
the  battle,  pointed  some  of  them  out  to  me. 

EOSSTEEVOE. 

The  charming  watering-places  about  !Newry  are  easily 
reached  by  rail  or  carriage.  If  one  has  but  little  time, 
Rosstrevor  will  claim  priority,  for  it  combines  almost  every 
element  of  rural  and  marine  scenery,  and  it  is  the  favorite 
resort  of  the  wealthy  classes  during  the  summer.  Narrow- 
water  Castle  is  on  the  road  thither,  and  the  legends  of  six 
hundred  years  invest  its  moldering  walls  with  a  somber 
interest.  Here  a  jealous  lord  imprisoned  his  beautiful 
Spanish  wife,  who  sat  and  wept  in  her  wave-washed  cell, 
as  Bonnivard  at  Chillon,  till  grief  "  worked  like  madness 
in  her  brain."  With  lute  in  hand  she  sang  her  wild  Iberian 
song,  and  the  boatmen,  as  they  passed  the  prison  at  even- 
ing, would  hear  her  pensive  voice 

"  In  sounds  as  of  a  captive  lone, 
That  mourns  her  woes  in  tongue  unknown." 

Warrenport,  with  its  villas,  shady  walks,  and  odorous 
gardens  ;  the  Vale  of  Arno,  the  "  Tempe  of  Ireland,"  with 
groves  of  sycamore  and  palm,  pine  and  arbutus,  and  the 
encircling  mountains  of  a  grand  amphitheater,  arrest  at- 
tention. A  quiet  stroll  alone  through  the  ancient  church- 
yard ;  a  look  at  the  elaborate  Rosstrevor  Cross  and  at  the 


IRELAND  AND  THE  IRISH.  17 

great  Cloughmore  on  the  mountain  side,  where  Druids  once 
worshiped  in  bygone  ages,  and  a  pleasant  drive  back  to 
Newry  at  sunset  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  The  Carling- 
ford  district  is  not  only  famous  for  its  enticing  natural 
scenery,  but  for  its  luscious  oysters,  as  piquant  and  de- 
licious as  ever  were  offered  Neptune  by  Thetis  and  her 
maids.  These  are  the  special  delight  of  epicures.  We 
tasted  none,  but  were  offered  at  Rosstrevor  for  a  sixpence 
a  box  of  "  Talmage  Voice  Lozenges."  What  next  ?  The 
solemn  name  of  Edward  Payson,  a  friend  tells  me,  is  worn 
in  Southern  States  by  not  a  few  fast  men,  fast  engines  and 
fast  horses. 

NEWET. 

The  first  mention  of  Newry  is  900  b.c.  Traditions  of 
Ossian's  heroes  are  numerous,  and  of  the  fierce  sea  kings 
830  a.d.  A  visit  to  the  remains  of  the  abbey  and  the  yew 
trees  connected  with  St.  Patrick's  memory  gives  new  in- 
terest to  the  study  of  early  monasticism  in  Ireland.  The 
town  was  long  ago  lampooned  by  Dean  Swift  in  his  caustic 
couplet, 

"  High  church,  low  steeple, 
Dirty  streets  and  proud  people." 

Now  put  Thackeray's  contradiction  beside  this,  when  he 
commends  its  "  business-like  streets,  bustling  and  clean  ; 
comfortable  and  handsome  public  buildings  ;  a  sight  of 
neatness  and  comfort  exceedingly  welcome  to  an  English 
traveler,"  and  its  "  plain,  downright  gentry."  The  hospi- 
table mansion  of  Mr.  Henry  Barcroft  at  the  Glen  was  a 
welcome  resting-place,  as  was  also  the  home  of  Mr.  John 
Grubb  Richardson  at  Gilford.  Mr.  R.  is  widely  known  as 
a  wealthy  linen  manufacturer  and  a  practical  Christian 
philanthropist."  The  "  model  town  "  of  Bessbrook  will  be 
his  most  enduring  monument  when  he  is  here  no  more. 
Serus  in  coelum  redeat. 

This  place  was  established  thirty -five  years  ago,  and  is 
now  known  all  over  the  world  for  the  "  Bessbrook  Spinning 


18  OUT-BOOB  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

Mills,"  which  in  1879  employed  2912  workmen,  whose 
wages  amounted  to  £58,000.  The  main  building  is  684 
feet  long,  and  749  power  looms  with  22,000  spindles  weave 
eight  miles  of  fabric  a  day  or  2500  miles  a  year.  A  visit 
to  these  mills  revealed  many  curious  facts.  In  a  table- 
cloth three  and  a  half  yards  long  there  are  70  miles  of 
linen  yarn  ;  35  tons  of  rough  flax  are  consumed  each  week, 
1,800  tons  in  a  year,  making  a  movement  in  spinning  every 
minute  equal  to  a  single  thread  100  miles  long,  or  55,000 
miles  in  a  day  of  nine  and  a  half  hours.  In  a  year  this  line 
would  encircle  the  globe  669  times,  or  stretch  to  the  moon 
and  back  34  times.  There  are  9000  tons  of  coal  used 
yearly,  and  several  loaded  supply  vessels  may  be  seen  at  a 
time  in  Carlingford  Bay,  waiting  on  these  industries. 
Other  statistics  copied  from  returns  to  government  might 
be  added  to  show  the  magnitude  of  this  enterprise  ;  but  the 
social  and  moral  features  are  more  notable.  Bessbrook  is  a 
thorough  temperance  town,  with  no  beer  shops,  pawn- 
shops, paupers,  police,  or  jail.  Intoxicating  liquors  are 
excluded,  and  total  abstinence  is  encouraged  by  precept, 
example,  and  reward.  Various  religious  denominations, 
Protestant  and  Roman  Catholic,  have  their  places  of 
worship,  and  excellent  school  privileges  are  enjoyed.  On 
one  excursion  to  Moyallon  House,  the  delightful  residence 
of  their  revered  friend  and  patron,  there  were  uj)wards  of 
1000  happy  children  gathered.  During  my  stay  one  of 
these  festivals  occurred — a  most  joyous  scene.  Games 
were  played  in  a  broad  field,  with  leaping  and  swinging 
and  foot-races,  in  which  boys  and  girls  participated.  A 
race  where  the  contestants  were  tied  up  in  bags  was  the 
most  ludicrous  imaginable.  There  was  marching,  with 
banners  waving  in  hand  ;  a  good  turnout  of  old,  wrinkled 
dames  with  the  ancient  straw-bonnets  and  gowns  of  by- 
gone years  ;  songs  and  speeches  ;  a  stuffing  of  fruit,  buns, 
and  jams  ;  and  a  flight  of  small  balloons. 

In  the  Bessbrook  school-rooms  the  rich  and  the    poor 
meet  together,  bright  merry -hearted  children.     The  aver- 


IRELAND  AND  THE  IRISH.  19 

age  attendance  is  500,  out  of  619  enrolled.  The  studies 
range  from  A  B  C  to  Euclid.  In  the  infant  room  there 
were  150,  in  nine  rows  of  benches,  rising  one  above  the 
other.  The  children  were  so  orderly  and  uniform  as  to 
look  "  like  a  sheet  of  postage  stamps."  Their  calisthenic 
or  movement  songs  were  rendered  with  admirable  time  and 
tune.  The  smallest  child  was  a  little  under  three  and  the 
oldest  seven  years  of  age.  There  was  good  ventilation, 
and  no  "  institutional  odor  "  about  the  apartments.  The 
excellent  penmanship  of  the  older  boys  was  next  examined, 
and  then  they  answered  my  questions  in  history  and  geog- 
raphy. 

"  What  are  some  of  the  colonies  of  Great  Britain  ?  "  I 
asked.  "  Australia,  India,  United  States — "  "  Hold  on  ! 
to-morrow  is  Fourth  of  July.  It  won't  do  to  lay  claim  to 
Yankee-land  just  now  !  " 

Hearty  laughter  followed,  in  which  the  blushing  boy  and 
mortified  teacher  joined.  They  concluded  to  substitute  the 
word  Canada  for  United  States,  so  war  was  averted.*  The 
Stars  and  Stripes  were  seen  at  my  window  the  next  morn- 
ing, and  two  beautiful  children,  subjects  of  the  Queen, 
joined  with  me  in  exploding  a  grain  or  two  of  powder  in 
honor  of  the  day. 

Bessbrook  Granite  "Works  employ  160  workmen  in  three 


*A  similar  error  was  made  by  an  English  gentleman,  who  remarked 
to  Rev.  J.  T.  Headley,  "  Let  me  see,  does  New  York  belong  to  the 
Canadasyet?"  He  also  quotes  the  remark  of  an  English  literary 
lady  who  said  that  she  supposed  the  States  would  be  very  cool  in 
summer  on  account  of  the  winds  blowing  over  the  Cordilleras  moun- 
tains! "  Sir  Thomas  Fowell  Buxton  invited  Garrison  the  philanthro- 
pist to  breakfast,  having  never  seen  him.  When  introduced,  he 
lifted  both  hands  in  astonishment,  saying,  ' '  I  thought  you  were  a 
black  man!  I  have  invited  this  company  to  see  the  black  advocate 
of  emancipation." 

A  Boston  gentleman  recently  dined  in  London  with  a  wealthy  and 
"  highly  educated  "  English  family,  every  member  of  which  was  of 
the  opinion  that  Boston  was  a  Southern  city,  and  had  been  the  hot- 
bed of  ' '  rebel "  sentiment  during  the  war. 


20  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

quarries.  Their  pay  roll  is  £7500  yearly.  The  polished 
spiral  staircase  of  blue  granite,  with  entrance  steps  22  feet 
long,  seen  in  the  Town  Hall,  Manchester,  is  one  of  the  spec- 
imens of  their  workmanship.  Superintendent  Flynn  said 
that  nowhere  in  America  was  he  more  courteously  received 
than  in  Quincy,  whose  quarries  he  inspected.  He  found 
the  hills  there  were  stone,  but  the  hearts  were  warm  and 
responsive.  His  fine  gray  granite  goes  all  over  the  world. 
In  a  word,  Bessbrook  is  a  place  of  remarkable  interest,  and 
a  most  suggestive  example  of  what  practical  philanthropy 
can  do.  A  more  intelligent  audience  I  seldom  have  had 
than  gathered  to  hear  a  lecture  on  American  Life.  The 
opportunity  to  question  the  lecturer  at  the  close  was  prompt- 
ly improved,  and  queries  were  proposed  as  to  the  Negro 
and  Chinese  problems,  female  education,  the  influence  of 
college  life  on  teetotal  habits,  and  other  matters  of  recent 
agitation.  During  this  July  visit  my  chamber  was  heated 
with  a  coal  fire,  and  every  night  an  uninvited  but  welcome 
bed-fellow  was  introduced  in  the  shape  of  a  jug  of  hot  water! 
The  torrid  waves,  of  which  American  papers  informed  us, 
came  nowhere  near  us  till  we  reached  Heidelberg. 

LONDONDBKKY 

was  of  all  places  the  most  alluring  in  Ireland.  The 
impression  of  Charlotte  Elizabeth's  "  Siege  of  Derrj  "  on 
my  boyhood's  imagination  was  vivid  and  ineffaceable.  It 
is  hard  to  describe  the  rush  of  emotions  as  one  enters  the 
Apprentice  Gate  which  Bryan  McAlister  and  his  intrepid 
comrades  closed,  on  that  memorable  seventh  of  December, 
1688,  making  "  the  maiden  city"  a  sacred  sanctuary;  or 
climbs  the  lofty  walls  that  for  ■  seven  months  shut  in  those 
to  whom  liberty  of  conscience  was  dearer  than  love  of  life  ; 
or  stands  within  the  church-yard  where  their  dust  is  piled  up 
in  a  single  mound  of  rich  mold  ;  or,  above  all,  as  one  sits 
in  that  old  cathedral,  where  the  valiant  preacher-soldier 
Walker  inspired  the  living,  comforted  the  dying,  and 
buried  the  dead.     I  had  just  read  over  again  the  story  of 


IRELAND  AND   THE  IRISH.  21 

the  siege,  of  the  domestic  loves  and  neighborly  acquaint- 
ances of  the  McAlisters  ;  of  the  unconquerable  loyalty  of 
the  defenders  and  the  fortitude  of  the  uncomplaining 
martyrs,  as  one  after  another  died  by  starvation  ;  of  that 
moonlight  night  when  Letitia  and  her  mother  met  death 
while  sleeping,  being  struck  by  a  bomb  that  tore  its  mur- 
derous way  through  the  roof,  and  of  that  tender  burial 
scene  in  the  cathedral,  just  before  day-dawn,  when  through 
the  shattered  windows  glared  the  red  light  of  the  fiery 
beacon  on  the  cathedral  roof,  and  staggering  skeletons 
stood  about  the  dead,  one  saying  as  he  looked  on  it, 
"These  came  out  of  great  tribulation";  another,  "These 
were  slain  for  the  testimony  of  Jesus";  a  third,  "The 
noble  army  of  martyrs  praise  thee  ! "  and  a  famished 
mother  with  a  starving  infant  at  her  dry  breast  added, 
"  They  shall  hunger  no  more,"  while  a  school-boy  whispered 
in  Latin  his  grateful  tribute, 

"Dulce  et  decorum  est  pro  patria  mori." 

Through  the  still  air  of  that  summer's  morning  two  cen- 
turies ago,  came  shot  and  shell  that  scattered  death  and 
destruction,  and  red-hot  cannon-balls  that  fired  the  houses 
through  which  they  plowed  their  way.  Cats,  mice,  dogs, 
and  horses  were  devoured  by  the  people  in  their  extremity, 
yet  they  threatened  death  to  any  traitor  who  proposed 
surrender.  Looking  from  the  tower  seaward,  the  thrilling 
scene  came  before  my  imagination  when  the  ships  of  Wil- 
liam bearing  succor  came  up  in  sight  of  Deny.  Flags 
were  waved  by  men  who  were  so  weak  as  to  reel  under 
the  weight  of  them,  and  prayer  and  shout  went  up  together 
to  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  The  aged  mother  of  Bryan  had 
been  carried  up  to  the  church  battery  to  die.  With  her 
eye  glazing  in  death  she  descried  the  laden  vessels  in  the 
distance.  Lifting  her  emaciated  hands  to  heaven  she 
cried,  "  Lord,  I  have  lived  to  pray,  I  come  to  praise  thee  !  " 
and  sweetly  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.  The  shell  sent  into  the 
city  by  the  enemy,  containing  terms  of  surrender,  is  seen 


22  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

in  the  vestibule  of  the  cathedral.  The  mounds  and  monu- 
ments, the  walls  and  cannon  are  all  invested  with  romantic 
interest,  as  mementoes  of  a  struggle  which  had  a  marked 
influence  on  English  liberty. 

The  Londonderry  of  to-day  is  not  without  interest,  but 
it  was  the  historic  Deny  I  came  to  see.  A  little  time, 
however,  was  spent  with  Rev.  R.  Sewall,  a  resident  Con- 
gregational pastor,  in  looking  about  the  town,  and  an  even- 
ing was  spent  in  listening  to  a  Synodic  sermon  before  a  R. 
P.  Conference.  The  venerable  preacher  having  tasked  our 
patience  a  full  hour,  at  length  reached  the  welcome  word 
"  Lastly  !  "  for  which  we  all  had  been  watching  as  they 
who  watch  for  the  morning.  But  he  didn't  stop ! 
"Finally"  followed,  but  he  didn't  mean  it,  for,  having 
enlarged  under  that  head,  he  then  said,  "  In  conclusion," 
which  exasperatingly  opened  other  exhortations  with 
"  first,"  "  second,"  and  so  on.  My  patience  was  exhausted  ! 
After  all  these  positive  assurances,  "  Lastly,  Finally,  In 
conclusion,"  the  man  began  a  new  theme  entitled,  "A 
word  to  the  members  of  the  church  !  "  I  took  my  hat  and 
took  my  leave.  He  may  be  talking  still,  for  aught  of  proof 
to  the  contrary.  There  never  was  a  better  exhibition  of  a 
"  Saint's  perseverance." 

THE    GIANT'S    CAUSEWAY. 

It  is  worth  seeing,  though  Dr.  Johnson,  or  somebody 
else,  has  said  it  is  not  worth  "  going  to  see."  Having  paid 
a  half-crown  each,  the  price  from  Portrush  to  the  Cause- 
way and  back,  eight  of  us  mounted  an  open  jaunting  car. 
The  distance  each  way  is  seven  miles,  and  the  scenery 
along  the  trendings  of  the  rocky  shore  is  most  command- 
ing. But  didn't  it  rain  ?  "  Pour "  is  the  word  for  that 
Irish  deluge.  I  had  always  favored  "  sprinkling,"  and 
every  day  for  six  weeks  after  leaving  New  York  was 
sprinkled  by  watery  skies,  but  this  day  we  thought  the 
thing  was  a  little  overdone. 

Dunluce  Castle  was  passed,  the   grandest  and  most 


IRELAND  AND   THE  IRISH.  23 

gloomily  romantic  relic  of  the  old  sea-kings  in  Europe, 
according  to  Sir  John  Manners.  He  says  that  there  is  no 
castle  on  the  Rhine,  or  elsewhere,  comparable  to  it  in  deso- 
late, awe-inspiring  grandeur.  "  How  the  towers  and  wall 
on  the  seaward  side  were  built,  I  can  not  divine.  What 
numbers  of  masons  and  builders  must  have  fallen  into  that 
gloomy  sea  before  the  last  loophole  was  pierced  !  It  has 
been  the  scene  of  many  strange  occurrences,  and  the  tra- 
ditions connected  with  it  would  fill  a  volume."  The 
isolated  rock  on  which  it  stands  is  120  feet  high,  and  the 
chasm  between  it  and  the  headland  is  passed  by  means  of 
a  natural  arch  and  draw-bridge.  The  superstitious  peas- 
ants still  hear  the  wailing  of  a  Banshee  in  a  vaulted  cell 
on  the  eastern  side  whenever  death  approaches  any  one  of 
the  Antrims.  It  is  built  of  columnar  basalt,  the  polygonal 
sections  being  clearly  seen.  The  sea  has  gnawed  out  vast 
caverns  beneath  it,  through  which  wind  and  wave  roar  or 
moan  ceaselessly. 

A  waterproof  had  kept  me  tolerably  dry  during  the  ride, 
but  a  walk  of  a  mile  or  more  must  be  taken  to  see  the 
Chimney  Tops — battered  by  the  Spanish  Armada,  mistaken 
for  the  towers  of  Dunluce  Castle — the  Giant's  Organ,  Pulpit, 
Theater,  Loom,  Punch  Bowl,  Bagpipes,  and  other  fanciful 
objects.  The  wind  rose,  and  the  rain  beat  down  upon  us 
so  vehemently  that  for  a  while  our  guide  directed  us  to 
huddle  together  and  squat  under  two  or  three  umbrellas 
till  the  storm  passed.  He  had  received  his  shilling  from 
each,  and  the  rain  did  not  trouble  him.  The  barefooted 
aborigines  also  put  in  an  appearance,  each  loaded  with 
specimens  of  crystals  and  fossils.  With  monotonous  volu- 
bility they  repeated  over  and  over  the  curious  refractions 
and  reflections  of  the  stone.  Our  reflections  were  decid- 
edly curious.  A  New  York  surgeon,  Dr.  C,  succeeded 
at  last  in  getting  our  guide  to  step  along  a  little  more 
lively  and  to  omit  large  portions  of  the  geological 
lingo  which  he  had  so  faithfully  committed  to  mem- 
ory. 


24  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

"  Gentlemen  !  here  is  the  only  triangular  stone  out  of 
these  47,000  !     The  polygonal — " 

"  Now,  now — that's  enough,  that's  enough  !  call  her 
triangle,  as  O'Connell  said  to  the  woman  in  Billingsgate  ; 
there's  nothing  worse." 

Our  ride  hack  to  Portrush  was  sunny  and  pleasant. 
Scotland  was  seen  across  the  hlue  waters.  From  the  rail- 
way carriage,  just  hefore  sunset,  I  had  a  glimpse  of  the 
bright  bosom  of  Lough  Neagh.  This  is  twenty  miles  long. 
But  three  lakes  in  Europe  surpass  it  in  extent.  Aside 
from  its  attractions  to  the  angler,  the  sportsman,  and  the 
artist,  its  legends  give  a  charm  to  the  lake.  In  the  reign 
of  the  Stuarts  the  sick  were  said  to  he  cured  by  its 
waters.  The  Ulster  lake  is  said  to  have  turned  wood 
to  stone.  The  old  chronicler  tells,  too,  of  the  sunken 
town  seen  beneath  the  placid  surface  with  "  ye  rounde 
towers  and  hyghe  shapen  steeples  and  churches  of  ye 
land."  I  regretted  that  I  had  not  been  able  to  ac- 
cept the  invitation  to  spend  a  week  by  the  shores  of 
this  beautiful  Irish  lake,  a  guest  of  my  Dublin 
friend. 

BELFAST. 

It  is  a  new  and  prosperous  place.  True,  Spenser  speaks 
of  it  as  having  been  a  "  good  town"  in  1315,  yet  a  century 
ago  there  were  less  than  15,000  population,  and  many  of 
the  houses  were  straw-thatched  cottages.  During  the 
Rebellion  in  America,  the  linen  trade  of  Belfast  made 
marked  advance.  The  public  buildings  are  attractive.  A 
ride  out  to  Queen's  College,  a  cordial  greeting  from  the 
venerable  President,  and  a  call  on  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  will 
be  remembered  with  lively  satisfaction.  At  8  p.m. 
I  went  aboard  a  Glasgow  steamer,  and  found  a  party 
of  Boston  friends  on  their  way  to  Scotland  and  the 
Continent,  belonging  to  Prof.  Tourjee's  educational 
excursion. 


SCOTLAND.  25 

CHAPTER  II. 

Scotland. 
"  There  is  magic  in  the  sound  !  " — Flago. 

It  is  so.  And  why  ?  How  is  it  that  "  Caledonia,  stern 
and  wild,"  occupies  so  lai-ge  a  space  in  the  thought  of  the 
scholar  and  the  tourist  ?  It  is  not  her  territorial  extent. 
It  is  not  the  picturesqueness  of  her  scenery.  It  is  not  her 
political  importance  or  her  material  wealth.  Is  it  not 
because  Scotland  has  been  the  battle-ground  of  truth,  the 
arena  of  moral  conflicts,  the  birthplace  of  noble  ideas? 
"  From  the  bonnie  highland  heather  of  her  lofty  summits, 
to  the  modest  lily  of  the  vale,  not  a  flower  but  has  blushed 
with  patriot  blood.  From  the  foaming  crest  of  Solway  to 
the  calm  polished  breast  of  Loch  Katrine,  not  a  river  or 
lake  but  has  swelled  with  the  life-tide  of  freemen  !  " 

From  my  Boston  boyhood, when  these  words  of  Flagg 
were  familiar  sounds  on  declamation  day,  and  Scott's  his- 
toric word-pictures  of  Scotland  were  my  delight,  I  had 
longed  to  visit  this  land  of  poetry  and  romance. 

EDINBURGH. 

A  student  in  the  University  kindly  introduced  me  to 
private  quarters  near  by,  comfortably  furnished.  A  quiet 
sitting-room  and  chamber  adjoining,  for  myself  and  a  young 
man  traveling  with  me  on  my  first  visit  to  Scotland,  were 
offered  to  us — service,  gas  and  boots  included — for  the  sum 
of  four  shillings  each,  weekly!  A  very  weakly  charge,  we 
thought.  Fruit  or  meat  was  brought  to  us  as  ordered,  and 
each  item  noted  at  cost,  as  Id.,  cup  of  tea;  2d.  boiled  egg; 
4d.,  basket  of  strawberries,  etc.  Pnly  one  dish  failed.  One 
morning  I  rang  for  our  good  woman  and  asked  her,  as  she 
entered,  to  prepare  us  some  Milk  Toast.  Nodding  assent 
she  retired,  but  soon  came  back,  evidently  bothered,  to  get 
once  more  the  order  of  her  guests.      After  a  while  she  ap- 


26  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

peared  with  a  pitcher  of  sour  buttermilk  !  We  stared  at 
the  pitcher  and  she  stared  at  us,  who  both  burst  into  a 
hearty  laugh.  "  Milk  toast!  "  was  again  ejaculated. 
Good  Mrs.  Duncan  now  owned  up  that  she  never  had  heard 
of  it.  I  told  her  that  it  was  not  milk,  still  less  sour  milk, 
least  of  all  sour  buttermilk,  but  that  Milk  Toast  meant 
toasted  bread,  bx-owned  and  buttered  and  battered,  as  any- 
Yankee  housekeeper  knows.  But  as  the  morning  was  pass- 
ing and  Mrs.  D.  wished  to  retire  to  blush,  we  excused  her 
from  any  further  service  at  that  time. 

King  Arthur's  Seat,  822  feet  high,  was  the  first  place 
visited,  in  order  to  get  our  bearings.  From  this  grand  coro- 
nation chair  is  had  one  of  the  most  varied  and  historically 
interesting  panoramas  that  Europe  has  to  offer.  At  your 
feet  is  the  Salisbury  Crags,  St.  Anthony's  Well,  the  site  of 
Effie  Dean's  cottage;  beyond,  Cow  Gate,  the  Ancient  Castle, 
St.  Giles,  the  Home  of  Knox,  the  Gardens,  the  New  City, 
and  the  shining  waters  of  the  Firth  of  Foy.  The  lofty 
Bass  Rock,  rising  sheer  400  feet  out  of  the  sea,  is  remem- 
bered as  the  prison  of  persecuted  Covenanters.  The  ruins 
of  Tantallon's  Towers,  sung  in  "Marmion,"  the  Ochil  and 
Pentland  Hills,  and  even  the  Highlands,  80  miles  away,  are 
seen  in  favorable  weather.  It  is  a  picture  of  beauty  that 
a  third  of  a  century  has  not  effaced.  Nor  have  I  forgotten 
the  sound  of  a  distant  bagpipe,  that  then  came  murmuring 
through  the  quiet  air  ;  the  ruddy  faces  of  romping  children 
who  climbed  the  mountain  with  me,  their  fine  complexion 
set  off  by  the  bright  tartan  that  clothed  them  ;  the  venture- 
some descent  we  made  over  a  rocky  precipice — horresco 
ref evens — and  the  rambles  afterwards  about  Old  Holyrood 
and  the  Palace  Gardens,  where  the  apple-tree  and  sun-dial 
of  Mary  Stuart  specially  interested  us. 

The  ancient  relics  within  the  palace  need  not  be  de- 
scribed, or  even  catalogued.  Though  watched,  we  plucked 
a  bit  of  hair  from  Lord  Darnley's  sofa,  and  plaster  from 
Mary's  room,  where  Rizzio  was  murdered  on  that  fateful 
Saturday  evening,  March   9,  1566.      The  dreadful  stains 


SCOTLAND.  27 

were  viewed  with  becoming  gravity,  and  we  expressed  no 
doubt  as  to  their  genuineness.  That  they  are  dim  may  be 
attributed  to  the  rash  experiment  attempted  by  an  itiner- 
ant pedler  of  erasive  soap,  who,  it  is  said,  once  visited 
Holyrood.  He  was  of  a  practical  rather  than  of  a  roman- 
tic turn,  and  expressed  surprise  that  ink  spots  or  any  other 
kind  of  spots  should  be  allowed  to  permanently  deface  a 
royal  floor  otherwise  clean.  Quickly  came  out  a  bottle 
from  his  capacious  pocket !  Kneeling — though  not  for 
adoration — the  heartless  iconoclast  began  to  scour  away 
the  sacred  stains,  which  for  centuries  had  been  so  rever- 
ently guarded.  The  good  woman  in  charge,  "  seeing  the 
hope  of  her  gains  "  about  to  disappear,  protested  against 
the  sacrilege,  but  the  ruthless  wretch  regarded  not  her 
tongue,  nor  did  he  cease  till  he  felt  across  his  nether  parts 
blows  from  that  other  weapon  which  a  woman  wields  in 
the  activities  and  emergencies  of  domestic  life. 

The  Marian  controversy  has  been  long  and  sharp.  With- 
out opening  it  afresh,  one  can  justly  admire  the  talents  of 
the  beautiful  queen  whose  tragic  story  is  familiar  to  all, 
and  which  is  made  all  the  more  vivid  to  the  imagination  by 
a  visit  to  Holyrood.     Here  is  her  last  prayer  : 

"  O  Domine  Deus,  speravi  in  Te  ! 
O  caremi  Jesu,  nunc  libera  me. 
In  dura  catena,  in  misera  poena, 

Desidero  Te. 
Languendo,  gemendo,  in  genuflectendo 
Adoro,  implore-,  ut  liberes  me." 

Those  were  dreary  days  when  Mary  lived,  and  darker 
ones  for  Scotland  followed.  Between  1661  and  1688  there 
were  18,000  imprisoned,  executed,  or  in  other  ways  were 
subjected  to  violent  persecutions  for  conscience  sake.  The 
murder  of  Margaret  Wilson  at  Sol  way,  the  slaughter  of 
400  at  Bothwell  bridge,  and  other  tragic  scenes,  invest 
localities  throughout  Scotland  with  something  of  the  sad 
interest  that  clings  to  Ireland. 

Of    the   charms  of  Edinburgh,  in   a  historic,  scenic,  or 


28  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

literary  point  of  view,  a  volume  might  be  written.  Inter- 
views with  some  of  her  honored  citizens  ;  sermons  from 
divines  like  Candlish,  Alexander,  Bonar  and  White  ;  a  visit 
to  the  infirmaries  where  Syme  and  other  eminent  surgeons 
were  then  busy  ;  investigations  among  some  of  the  wynds 
and  closes  in  company  with  a  medical  man,  a  graduate  of 
Yale  College  ;  a  ramble  around  the  Castle,  rich  in  legends  ; 
a  ride  to 

EOSLIK   CHAPEL, 

and  a  quiet  stroll  alone  through  "  the  caverned  depths  of 
Hawthornden,"  the  hiding-place  of  hunted  fugitives  in  the 
days  of  Scottish  martyrdom — each  of  these  might  form  a 
chapter. 

Then  there  is  the  valley  of  the  Tweed,  with  Dryburgh, 
Abbotsford  and  Melrose  ;  the  homes  and  haunts  of  poets 
and  "  auld  rhymers,"  like  Thomas  of  Earlstone,  crowded 
with  objects  that  delight  the  eye,  while  they  keep  aglow 
the  memory  and  imagination  !  Never  can  the  impressions 
grow  dim  of  an  evening  visit  to  "  St.  David's  shrine,"  where 
Cistercian  monks  worshiped  in  the  twelfth  century,  and 
around  whose  ruins  art,  poetry  and  romance  have  thrown 
such  enduring  charms. 

MELEOSE. 

The  minster  bell  slowly  tolled  the  hour  of  nine.  The 
day  had  passed  and  the  long  summer  twilight  of  Scotland 
was  slowly  deepening  into  night  as  the  porter  opened  his 
gate  to  my  call  and  bade  me  enter.  He  saw  that  I  wished 
to  be  alone,  and  did  not  follow.  What  a  luxury  is  solitude 
in  such  a  spot.  The  empty  chatter  of  a  crowd  of  sight- 
seers cheapens  and  makes  insipid  the  pleasures  of  such  a 
sacred  hour.  Architecturally,  the  ivy-clad  shrine  was  pic- 
turesque. The  choir  and  transept ;  the  magnificent  south- 
ern window,  divided  by  four  mullions  and  interlacing 
curves  of  graceful  beauty  ;  the  carvings,  columns,  pinna- 
cles, tombs  and  roofless  chapel — all  were  studied  and  ad- 


SCOTLAND.  29 

mired.  But  it  was  more  than  these  ruins  which  were  seen 
at  that  evening  hour — 

"  When  distant  Tweed  was  heard  to  rave, 
And  owlets  hoot  o'er  the  dead  man's  grave." 

Leaning  against  the  cloister  door,  I  seem  to  see  once 
more  the  solemn  procession  enter  the  shrine,  with  measured 
step  and  chanted  song  ;  again,  through  echoing  aisles  there 
came' — 

"  With  sable  cowl  and  scapular, 
And  snow-white  stoles  in  order  due, 
The  holy  Fathers,  two  and  two  — 
And  the  bells  tolled  out  their  mighty  peal 
For  the  departed  spirit's  weal  ! " 

The  air  seemed  charged  with  voices,  that  swelled  in  pen- 
sive wail  their  "  Dies  irae,  dies  ilia,"  till  crowded  crypt  and 
answering  arch  reverberated  with  the  sweetly  solemn  song 
of  seven  hundred  years  ago. 

THE    SCOTTISH    HIGHLANDS. 

"  Aren't  your  legs  cold  ? "  said  I  to  a  Highlander 
beside  me  on  the  boat  that  took  us  from  Edinboro  to  Stir- 
ling. "  I  dare  say  they  were  at  first,  but  I've  got  used  to 
it."  He  evidently  regarded  trowsers  only  fit  for  feeble 
folk.  A  lusty  fellow  with  them  on  would  be  a  panta-loonatic 
in  his  eyes. 

From  Alloa  to  Stirling  by  water  is  a  distance  of  twelve 
miles,  just  double  that  of  an  air  line.  "  The  Links  "  abound 
in  varied  beauty.  The  sunny  Ochil  hills  beyond;  the  corn- 
fields and  meadows  along  the  valley 

"  Where  Devon,  sweet  Devon,  meandering  flows;" 

ruins  of  Roman  fortresses  ;  smiling  villages  and  lordly 
domains  diversified  the  scenery  on  either  hand. 

Stirling  was  a  favorite  among  royalty.  Well  it  might 
be  "  Summa  summarum,"  as  a  German  tourist  puts  it. 
Rising  betimes,  I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  castle  hill.     I 


30  OUT-DOOB  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

stood  on   the    esplanade  to  see   the    guard    relieved,  and 
repeated  Scott's  lines — 

"At  dawn  the  towers  of  Stirling  rang 
With  soldier  step  and  weapon  clang, 
"While  drums  with  rolling  note  foretell 
Relief  to  weary  sentinel." 

The  Douglas  room  is  a  sadly  interesting  room,  denied  by 
James  II.,  who  murdered  here  in  1452  the  Earl  of  Douglas 
when  invited  hither  under  the  protection  of  a  safe-conduct. 
In  the  vale  below  I  recalled  a  scene  in  Waverly,  and  imi- 
tated the  indignant  leader  of  Balmawhapple  by  firing  a 
pistol,  aimed  at  the  frowning  bastions  400  feet  above.  The 
dazzling  gleam  of  the  sentry's  bayonet  as  he  paced  along 
the  lofty  rampart  at  that  sunrise  hour  is  almost  as  fresh  in 
memory  to-day  as  on  that  July  morning,  1855  ;  so,  too,  the 
exhilaration  of  the  day's  ride  through  the  Trossacks,  over 
the  Lakes  and  up  the  Clyde  to  Glasgow. 

At  9  a.m.,  the  jolly  driver,  clad  in  a  red  coat  with  brass 
buttons,  mounted  his  box,  and  away  we  went,  four  inside 
and  fourteen  of  us  outside.  Our  speed  was  nine  miles  an 
hour,  almost  too  rapid  for  one  fully  to  take  in  the  romance 
and  beauty  of  this  enchanted  land.  Holding  his  reins  in 
one  hand  and  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake  "  in  the  other,  the 
driver  recited  the  description  of  each  notable  locality.  The 
odorous  air  was  scented  with  violet  and  eglantine  ;  the 
hazel,  hawthorn  and  "  the  primrose  pale  "  fringed  our  wind- 
ing way.  At  Coilantogle  Ford  we  were  told  of  the  combat 
between  Fitz  James  and  Roderick  Dhu.  Then  came 
Vennachar  and  "  the  wide  and  level  green,"  where  naught 
could  "hide  a  bonnet  or  a  spear  ";  and  further  on  we  saw 
the  rock  where  the  warrior's  challenge,  "  Come  one,  come 
all !  "  was  flung  in  the  face  of  Clan  Alpine's  braves.  Now 
appeared  the  bright,  breezeless  waters  of  Loch  Achray, 
with  Benledi's  purple  peak  beyond,  and  soon  Loch  Katrine's 
sequestered  loveliness  burst  on  our  view.  The  lark  and 
thrush  and  blackbird  answer  still  from  bush  and  brake,  as 
when  Ellen  skimmed  the  lake  in  other  days. 


SCOTLAND.  31 

A  steamer  took  us  ten  miles  to  the  district  of  the  Mac- 
Gregors,  through  which  I  passed  on  foot,  five  miles  to  Loch 
Lomond.  The  goats  pastured  on  the  slope  of  Benvenue, 
the  eagle  soared  above  its  summit,  the  hei*on  stalked  among 
the  reeds.  There  was  a  rugged  look,  a  loneliness  and  pen- 
sive hue  to  the  scenery  about  the  haunts  of  Rob  Roy  and  his 
clan.  The  hut  was  pointed  out  where  Helen,  his  wife,  was 
born.  At  Inversnaid  I  gave  a  half -hour  to  a  visit  among 
the  wild  solitudes  in  which  Wordsworth  has  laid  the  scenes 
of  his  "  Highland  Girl."  The  "  glen  of  sorrow,"  where 
200  were  slain  by  the  MacGregors,  and  80  youths  also  who 
were  attracted  thither  by  curiosity  ;  Inch  Cruin,  a  former 
retreat  for  lunatics  ;  Lennox,  Butturich  and  Balloch  castles, 
were  seen  from  the  steamer's  deck  as  we  passed  over  the 
shadowy  waters  of  this  "  Pride  of  the  Highland  Lakes." 

The  dusky  shadows  clothed  Dumbarton's  lofty  towers  as 
I  passed  them.  They  stand  560  feet  above  the  Clyde  and 
recall  the  hero  Wallace  once  imprisoned  there,  whose  huge 
sword  is  still  shown.  The  evening  lamps  were  lighted  ere 
we  reached  populous  Glasgow,  and  their  cheerful  glow  in 
many  a  mansion  or  castle  along  the  river,  the  excursion 
boats  and  other  gay  craft  about  us,  and  the  instrumental 
music  on  board  our  steamer  contributed  to  make  that  mid- 
summer night  one  that  can  never  fade  from  memory. 

GLASGOW   AND   DR.  CHALMERS. 

Tourists  find  this  busy  metropolis  a  center  from  which 
tours  are  planned  in  every  direction.  Its  stirring  industries 
will  interest  the  business  man  ;  its  University  and  Museum, 
the  scholar ;  the  annals  of  thirteen  centuries  connected 
with  the  Cathedral,  the  antiquary.  Glasgow,  too,  is  intel- 
lectually an  opulent  center.  It  has  been  the  birthplace  or 
home  of  many  eminent  men,  among  whom  are  remembered 
Adam  Smith,  Thomas  Reid,  Thomas  Campbell,  Sir  Colin 
Campbell,  Sir  John  Moore,  Chalmers,  Balfour  and  Ward- 
law. 

Changes  are  noticed  year  by  year  in  civic  life  here  as  on 


32  OUT-DOOB  LIFE  J2V  EUROPE. 

the  Continent.  For  instance,  in  the  vehicles.  The 
"  noddies  "  of  Glasgow,  like  the  "  minbus  "  of  Edinboro, 
each  a  one-horse  vehicle  for  four,  are  supplanted  by  the 
tram-cars.  Hotel  life  since  1855  has  taken  on  changes  in 
this  city  of  near  half  a  million.  Architectural  and  other 
improvements  are  seen,  as  in  the  new  University,  the 
Necropolis  and  West  End  Park,  on  the  banks  of  the  Kelvin, 
environed  by  elegant  residences. 

During  his  ministry  in  Glasgow,  Dr.  Chalmers  delighted 
to  get  away,  he  said,  from  the  heavy  air  of  the  smoky  city, 
and  spend  much  of  his  time  in  the  suburbs.  Some  of  those 
wonderful  astronomical  discourses  were  written  "  in  a  small 
pocket-book  with  borrowed  pen  and  ink,  in  strange  apart- 
ments, where  he  was  liable  every  moment  to  interruption." 
Dr.  Wardlaw  gives  a  graphic  description  of  the  effect  of 
those  pulpit  efforts  at  Glasgow  in  the  winter  of  1818. 
His  Thursday  forenoon  lectures  "  crammed  Tron  Church 
with  fifteen  or  sixteen  hundred  hearers.  His  soul  seemed 
in  every  utterance.  It  was  thrilling,  overwhelming." 
Students  deserted  their  classes  at  the  University,  and  busi- 
ness men  their  shops,  to  be  present.  The  common  people 
forgot  their  dislike  of  a  "  paper  minister,"  as  one  who  used 
notes  was  called.  A  Fifeshire  dame  was  asked  how  she, 
who  hated  reading,  could  be  so  fond  of  the  Glasgow 
preacher.  With  a  shake  of  the  head,  she  said  :  "  Nae 
doubt ;  but  it's  fell  readi?i>  though  "  {Fell,  keen,  powerful). 
Dr.  Hanna  says  that  once  in  an  open-air  service  Chalmers' 
sheets  blew  away,  and  great  efforts  were  made  by  the 
people  to  find  them.  He  assured  them  that,  being  written 
in  short-hand,  they  could  be  used  by  nobody  else. 

A  Glasgow  tramp  once  called  at  his  study,  when  Chalmers 
was  in  the  thick  of  morning  thought.  The  intruder  pre- 
tended to  be  in  great  distress  of  mind  as  to  the  grounds  of 
Christianity,  and  particularly  as  to  the  statement  that 
Melchisedek  had  neither  father  nor  mother.  He  seemed  to 
receive  great  light  and  comfort  as  the  patient  preacher 
minutely  cleared  up  the  matter.     Then  the  beggar  added 


SCOTLAND.  33 

that  he  was  needing  money,  and  asked  Dr.  Chalmers  to 
help  him  that  way.  The  trick  aroused  the  wrath  of  the 
minister  like  a  tornado.  He  drove  the  rogue  into  the  street, 
exclaiming,  "  Not  a  penny  !  not  a  penny  !  It's  too  bad, 
too  bad.  And  to  haul  in  your  hypocrisy  upon  the  shoulders 
of  Melchisedek  !  " 

Seven  miles  out  of  Glasgow  are  the  ruins  of  Cruickston 
Castle,  where  Mary  and  Darnley  spent  their  honeymoon. 

Paisley  stands  on  the  site  of  a  Roman  camp,  and  has  an 
Abbey,  founded  1163,  whose  moldering  crypts  contain 
the  dust  of  two  Scottish  queens.  Prof.  Wilson,  "  Chris- 
topher North,"  and  his  brother  the  naturalist ;  Tannahill, 
the  lyric  poet ;  Motherwell,  and  other  literary  celebrities, 
were  born  here.  I  passed  by  the  waters  that  in  1835  sucked 
out  the  sweet  life  of  that  weaver  poet  who,  when  only  35, 
bui'ned  his  poems,  and,  like  Chatterton,  sought  refuge  in 
suicide.  It  was  interesting  to  notice  among  the  grocers 
that  the  American  custom  prevailed  of  coaxing  people  with 
presents.  Granulated  sugar  was  marked  threepence.  Ink- 
stands and  other  glassware  were  given  away. 

Near  Irvine  I  saw  the  lofty  turrets  of  Eglinton  Castle, 
where  the  famous  tournament  came  off  in  1839,  in  which 
Louis  Napoleon  participated,  and  at  Kilwinning,  of  free- 
masonry fame,  the  ruined  abbey,  a  fine  specimen  of  the 
first  pointed  style. 

THE    BURKS    DISTRICT. 

A  shower  had  just  passed,  and  the  bright  afternoon  sun^ 
shine  spread  a  mantle  of  beauty  over  grove  and  meadow 
as  our  carriage  rolled  away  from  the  railway  at  Ayr 
towards  the  Bridge  of  Doon,  Alloway  Kirk  and  the  birth- 
place of  Robert  Burns.  The  fir,  the  larch,  the  beech,  and 
the  willow  by  the  roadside  dripped  with  the  sparkling  rain» 
drops,  and  the  sweetness  of  new-mown  hay  was  in  the  air. 
Not,  indeed,  as  fast  as  Tarn  O'Shanter  urged  his  gray  mare 
Meg  in  his  flight  from  Cuttysark  and  the  witches,  but  quite 
fast  enough  for  us,  did  James,  the  driver,  take  us  to  the 


34  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

lowly  cottage  which  has  drawn  so  many  eager  visitors  to  it 
from  all  parts  of  the  globe,  as  the  autograph  books  testify. 
No  admission  fee  is  exacted,  as  at  Stratford  on  Avon,  but 
each  is  expected  to  purchase  souvenirs,  on  which  the  profits 
are  ample.  At  the  Monument  we  saw  the  Bible  which 
Burns  gave  his  Highland  lassie,  Mary  Campbell.  She  was 
a  servant  at  Castle  Montgomery.  After  a  long  courtship 
the  lovers  were  about  to  be  united,  when  "  Death's  untimely 
frost "  nipped  the  sweet  flower  which  Burns  so  fondly  cher- 
ished. Out  of  a  heart  surcharged  with  grief  gushed  those 
tender  soliloquies  of  yearning  love  which  have  made  his 
name  immortal.  Looking  at  that  lover's  gift  you  think, 
too,  of  that  other  maid,  his  future  wife,  with  whom  he  had, 
during  Mary's  life,  become  too  intimate  ;  their  marriage 
and  instant  separation  by  her  wrathful  father ;  sorrow 
after  sorrow,  till  in  1*796  the  poet  dies,  leaving  four  help- 
less little  ones  and  "  a  wife  who,  whilst  her  husband's 
corpse  was  being,  carried  down  the  street,  was  delivered  of 
a  fifth  child."  This  "patient  Jean  Armour"  survived  him 
38  years,  comfortably  cared  for  and  universally  respected. 
Their  last  son,  "William,  died  1872,  in  his  8 2d  year. 

Principal  Shairp  says  that  Burns  was  "  the  supreme  mas- 
ter in  genuine  song,  the  greatest  lyric  singer  the  world  has 
known."  But  he  justly  adds  that  these  deep  sympathies 
and  royal  intellectual  gifts  were  dominated  by  fierce  pas- 
sions, hard  to  restrain  by  a  will  weak  and  irresolute. 
"  Some  claim  honor  for  him  not  only  as  Scotland's  greatest 
poet,  but  as  one  of  the  best  men  she  has  produced.  Those 
who  thus  try  to  canonize  Burns  are  no  true  friends  to  his 
memory."  This  checkered  life  has  given  to  the  haunts 
along  "the  Winding  Ayr"  a  fascinating  interest  to  all 
lovers  of  Scottish  song.  So  is  it  everywhere  in  this  wild 
but  beautiful  land.  Indeed,  the  spell  of  the  Caledonian 
muse  is  almost  universal.  Allan  Cunningham  says  that  it 
is  felt  wherever  British  feet  have  led,  from  the  snows  of 
Siberia  to  the  sands  of  Egypt,  on  the  shores  of  the  Ganges, 
the  Ilissus,  and  the  Amazo"      Songs  followed  the  bride  to 


SCOTLAND.  35 

her  chamber,  the  dead  to  their  grave  ;  the  sailor  to  sea, 
the  soldier  to  war.  The  rich,  he  says,  sung  in  the  parlor, 
the  menial  in  the  hut ;  the  shepherd  on  the  hillside,  and 
the  maid  milking  her  ewes.  The  weaver  sung  moving  his 
shuttle,  the  mason  squaring  the  stone,  the  smith  at  his 
forge,  the  reaper  in  harvest,  the  rower  at  his  oar,  the  fisher 
dropping  his  net,  and  the  miller  as  the  golden  meal  gushed 
warm  from  the  mill. 

The  rise  of  elegiac  verse,  of  heroic  and  other  forms  of 
poetry,  and  the  relation  of  each  to  the  varied  scenery  of 
Highland  and  Lowland,  form  an  inviting  theme.  The 
poems  of  Ossian,  the  blind  old  Homer  of  Celtic  song,  left 
impressions  on  my  boyhood  fancy  tender  yet  melancholy, 
romantic  but  lurid,  like  many  of  the  pictures  of  Dore. 
When  I  came  to  wander  on  foot  through  a  portion  of  the 
Highland  district,  over  barren  heaths,  along  caverned 
depths,  mid  echoes  and  wailings  of  wind  or  wave,  it  was 
easy  to  see,  as  Blair  and  Beattie  have  taught  us  to  find,  the 
peculiar  elements  of  their  shadowy  mystery,  the  wild  rug- 
gedness  and  warlike  terror.  How  much  James  Macpher- 
son  interpolated  is  a  question.  Whether,  indeed,  they  were 
or  were  not  literary  forgeries,  like  those  of  Chatterton  at 
Bristol,  is  now  of  little  moment.  Fifty  years  ago  portions  of 
the  Ossianic  translations  were  my  reading  lessons  in  the 
"  American  First  Class  Book,"  and  left  their  undying  im- 
pression on  thought  and  imagination.  The  teacher,  as  well 
as  the  book,  was  "  first  class,"  and  the  recital  of  the  lines  was 
a  process  of  engraving  as  with  a  diamond's  point  ;  an  argu- 
ment, by  the  way,  for  the  superiority  of  English  classics,  in 
their  formative  influence  on  youthful  taste,  over  much  of  the 
insipid,  ephemeral  literature  of  this  telegraphic  age.  That 
Shakespeare,  Milton,  Pope,  Addison,  Sterne,  Jeffrey,  Wil- 
son and  Scott  were  my  early  guides  I  owe  to  Boston  schools 
in  general  and  to  Rev.  John  Pierpont  in  particular. 

STAFFA    AND    IONA. 

From   Glasgow   by   steamer   to    Oban  is    a  day's  trip. 


36  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

Another  clay  gives  you  a  glance  of  the  Hebrides,  and  an 
opportunity  to  spend  two  hours  on  these  islands,  amid 
scenes  of  surpassing  interest.  Hardly  any  place  in  Europe 
is  remembered  with  more  satisfying  pleasure.  Yet  few 
American  tourists  turn  aside  from  the  beaten  track  to  visit 
these  quiet  isles.  Their  summer  is  too  short,  and  the  Con- 
tinent calls  louder. 

It  was  not  till  after  seeing  Iona  that  I  read  the  mono- 
graph of  the  Duke  of  Argyll.  This  is  a  prose  poem,  and 
paints  a  picture  of  Columba's  age,  when  Justinian  and 
Belisarius  lived,  and  when  races  on  the  march,  like  waves 
on  the  beach,  swept  over  the  face  of  Europe.  Darkness 
rested  on  the  ancient  centers  of  art,  of  science,  and  of  law. 
"What  is  now  England  had  hardly  ceased  to  be  a  Roman 
colony,  harassed,  indeed,  by  the  ruthless  incursions  of  a 
pagan  race,  but  yielding  not  to  Saxon  sway  till  after 
Columba's  death.  It  was  an  age  when  the  battles  of  ortho- 
doxy won  oy  Athanasius,  Ambrose,  and  Augustine  had 
given  form  to  that  discipline  and  belief  which  was  finally 
accepted  by  Latin  and  Teutonic  people,  and  when  St. 
Benedict  had  begun  to  exert  a  molding  influence  on  early 
monasticism. 

Having  thus  grouped  the  salient  historic  features  of 
Columba's  age,  His  Grace  outlines  the  physical  features 
of  that  rocky  islet  which  received  the  Celtic  saint  a.d. 
563,  and  soon  became  in  sacred  learning  "the  light  of  the 
western  world."  From  Iona  the  abbot  and  his  monks  went 
forth  on  missionary  journeys  among  the  heathen  Picts,  and 
to  which  chieftains  came  to  be  blessed,  the  red-handed  men 
of  blood  to  be  pardoned,  and  kings  to  be  ordained.  Hither 
was  brought  in  shrouded  galleys  the  dust  of  the  titled  and 
the  crowned  of  earth,  to  rest  on  "  Columba's  happy  isle." 
Landing  at  "  the  'Bay  of  Martyrs,"  the  funeral  pageant  was 
marshaled  near  a  green  knoll,  still  pointed  out  and  known 
in  the  native  tongue  as  the  Mound  of  Burden.  Here  the 
bier  rested  and  the  ceremonial  was  arranged.  Then  the 
wailing  coronach  echoed  along  the  Street  of  the  Dead,  as 


SCOTLAND.  37 

the  clansmen  of  the  chief  or  the  vassals  of  the  lord  took  up 
the  corpse  and  bore  it  to  its  burial.  For  three  centuries 
after  Columba's  death  the  sacred  isle  was  frequently  rav- 
aged by  the  wild  Northmen.  These  savage  pirates  demol- 
ished church  and  monastery,  and  murdered  the  monks  .with- 
out mercy.  From  the  13th  to  the  16th  century,  Iona,  or  Hy, 
or  Icolmkill,  as  it  is  also  called,  was  the  seat  of  a  Romish 
nunnery,  finally  broken  up  by  the  Scotch  Parliament  in 
1560. 

The  day  of  our  visit  was  one  of  dreamy,  halcyon  quiet, 
and  the  broad  Atlantic  stretched  westward  before  our  gaze 
like  a  smooth  floor  of  shining  sapphire,  bordered  north- 
ward by  the  larger  Hebridean  isles,  and  southward  by  the 
Torranan  Rocks,  "  in  barren  grandeur  piled."  Our  steamer 
came  to  anchor,  and  a  red  life-boat  put  us  ashore  first  at 
Staffa.  The  stillness  of  the  noonday  hour  was  only 
broken  by  the  quiet  throb  of  the  tide  or  the  queru- 
lous cry  of  the  gull,  as  if  to  rebuke  our  intrusion. 
Scott,  in  his  "  Lord  of  the  Isles,"  tells  of  this  seques- 
tered spot,  where  "  the  cormorant  has  found,  and  the 
shy  seal,  a  quiet  home  ";  where  God  has  built  himself 
a  minster,  as  if  "  to  shame  the  temples  decked  by  skill 
of  earthly  architect,"  and  where,  in  ebb  and  swell,  the 
solemn  sea 

' '  From  the  high  vault  an  answer  draws, 
In  varied  tone,  prolonged  and  high, 
That  mocks  the  organ's  melody." 

A  score  of  us  climbed  up  the  moist  and  slippery  rocks 
and  walked  into  Fingal's  Cave.  It  is  about  32  feet  broad, 
66  feet  high,  and  227  feet  deep.  Neither  pen  nor  pencil 
can  do  justice  to  the  view  presented,  still  less  to  the  over- 
powering sensations  awakened,  as,  in  that  vast  cathedral, 
we  reverently  paused  and  lifted  that  ancient  melody  which 
has  no  equal,  "  Old  Hundred,"  to  the  words,  "  Praise  God, 
from  whom  all  blessings  flow  !  "  Tuneful  voices  united  in 
the  strain,  which  swelled  and  reverberated  through  the 
lofty  arches  and  dim  recesses  with  a  depth  and  mellowness, 


38  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

a  majesty  and  grandeur  indescribable  !  It  was  a  fit  anthem 
and  fitly  rendered. 

The  Gaels  called  this  the  musical  cave.  Here  in  olden 
time  may  have  been  heard  the  hymn  of  the  Druids;  the 
prayer  of  monk  or  nun,  "  Iona's  saints";  the  shout  of  the 
Roman,  or  the  cry  of  the  sea-pirates,  echoing  through  the 
pillared  vestibule.  The  rude  peasant  still  hears  the  voice  of 
Fingal's  ghost  in  the  sob  of  the  wind  and  the  roar  of  the 
wave.  The  weather  was  exceptionally  favorable  for  our 
visit.  For  the  first  time  in  the  season  had  the  distant 
"Paps  of  Jura,"  3000  feet  high,  appeared  in  the  southern 
horizon.  In  its  calm  beauty  the  day  was  very  like  the  19th 
of  August,  1847,  when  Her  Majesty  and  the  princes  entered 
the  cave  in  a  royal  barge.  Rarely  is  this  possible.  Excur- 
cursion  steamers  frequently  are  obliged  to  pass  by  without 
effecting  a  landing. 

From  Fingal's  Cave  our  guide  took  us  across  the  island 
to  enjoy  the  grand  prospect  from  the  highest  cliffs,  and  to 
examine  the  geological  curiosities.  The  island  is  tunneled 
by  numerous  caves.  We  saw  the  "  Wishing  Chair,"  had 
a  glimpse  of  the  Cormorant's  Cave,  which  is  broader  than 
Fingal's,  and  about  the  same  depth ;  of  Clamshell 
Cave,  with  singular  curved  basaltic  pillars,  and  Boat  Cave, 
the  roof  of  which  is  112  feet  high,  the  height  of  an  aver- 
age church  spire.  As  on  the  lofty  chalk  cliffs  of  the  Isle 
of  Wight,  I  lay  down  and  peered  over  the  dizzy  edge, 
watching  the  wash  of  the  waves  and  the  graceful  gyrations 
of  the  white-winged  petrel.  The  shrill  whistle  of  the  boat- 
swain interrupted  our  meditations.  The  red  barge  took  us 
to  the  steamer,  and  in  half  an  hour  we  came  to  anchor  off 
Iona,  and  were  again  rowed  ashore.  The  official  guide, 
furnished  by  the  proprietor,  the  Duke  of  Argyll,  meets 
you  at  the  rude  pier.  He  has  a  uniform  of  blue  flannel. 
He  sees  to  it  that  the  ruins  are  "  kept  in  repair "  !  Al- 
though the  population  is  but  260,  there  are  two  Protestant 
denominations,  Free  and  Established.  Both  are  firmly 
established.     You  will  also  find  a  sood  show  of  children. 


SCOTLAND. .  39 

These  juvenile  saints  issue  from  the  forty  huts  that  line 
the  single  "  Straide  "  (street),  and  hasten,  with  Hebridean 
instinct,  to  prey — prey  upon  the  pilgrim's  wallet.  Offer 
them  a  sixpence.  Will  they  not  give  you  a  stone  ?  Yes, 
load  you  with  dolomite  or  felspar,  or  curious  shells  or  gray 
lichens.  The  sonnets  of  Wordsworth  tell  of  these  youth- 
ful traders  in 

"  wave-worn  pebbles,  pleading  on  the  shore 
Where  once  came  monk  and  nun  with  gentle  stir, 
Blessings  to  give,  news  ask,  or  suit  prefer." 

Lately,  His  Grace  has  only  allowed  these  bare-legged 
Ionians  to  pay  their  devotions — to  your  purse — at  a  des- 
ignated place,  the  straight  and  narrow  way  through 
which  you  must  pass  to  the  Nunnery.  Here  they  range 
themselves,  like  hungry  hackmen,  behind  a  railing.  Little 
chubby  hands  or  cracked  saucers  hold  out  to  you  treasures 
gleaned  from  cliff  or  beach.  Of  one  sweet-faced  child, 
whose  timid  whisper  was  almost  lost  in  the  more  urgent 
plea  of  her  companions,  I  bought  a  handful  of  shells  and 
green  stones  that  promise  the  possessor  exemption  from 
disease  and  harm. 

Now  you  pass  into  the  Nunnery,  and  sit  on  the  stone 
seats  where  "  holy  virgins  "  prayed  six  hundred  years  ago, 
and  where  many  a  Hie  Jacet,  with  its  recorded  tribute,  lies. 

Of  the  360  crosses  imposed  upon  this  long-suffering  isle, 
the  Synod  of  Argyle,  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  took 
60,  and  deposited  them  in — the  sea.  Many  others  have 
fallen  under  the  blows  of  iconoclasts,  or  those  of  inquisitive 
and  acquisitive  tourists.  St.  Martin's  Cross  is  a  beautiful 
specimen  of  these  graceful  memorials,  with  Runic  carvings 
in  high  relief.  Passing  through  the  Street  of  the  Dead  to 
the  burial-ground,  thence  to  the  Cathedral,  looking  at  the 
graves  of  forty  kings  of  Scotland,  including  Duncan  and 
his  murderer  Macbeth,  and  the  crumbling  relics  of  thirteen 
centuries,  you  are  ready  to  believe,  with  a  dean  who 
visited  Iona  in  1594,  that  this  "  is  the  maist  honourable  and 
ancient  place  in  Scotland,  as  in  thair  dayes  we  reid."     The 


40  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

familiar  words  of  Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  Tour  to  the  Hebrides, 
also  occur  to  memory.* 

Sentimentality  aside,  one  can  not  stand  on  the  Abbot's 
mound  and  repeat  the  prophecy  of  Columba  without  being 
impressed  with  its  literal  fulfilment.  The  last  day  of  his  life, 
the  gray -haired  saint,  nearly  fovir  score  and  very  infirm,  was 
assisted  to  reach  this  rocky  eminence  which  overlooked  his 
long-adopted  home.  Raising  his  hands  he  spoke  these  words : 
"  Huic  loco,  quamlibet  angusto  et  vili  non  tantum  Scotorum 
Reges  cum  populis,  sed  etiam  barbarum  et  exterarum  gen- 
tium regnatores,  cum  plebibus  sibi  subjectis,  grandem  et  non 
mediocrem  conferrent  honorem  ;  a  Sanctis  quoque  etiam 
aliarum  ecclesiarum  non  mediocris  veneratio  conferetur."  f 

*'"Wewere  now  treading  that  illustrious  island  which  was  once 
the  luminary  of  the  Caledonian  regions,  whence  savage  clans  and 
roving  barbarians  derived  the  benefits  of  knowledge  and  the  bless- 
ings of  religion.  To  abstract  the  mind  from  all  local  emotions  would 
be  impossible  if  it  were  endeavored,  and  would  be  foolish  if  it  were 
possible.  "Whatever  withdraws  us  from  the  power  of  our  senses, 
whatever  makes  the  past,  the  distant,  or  the  future  predominate  over 
the  present,  advances  us  in  the  dignity  of  thinking  beings.  Far 
from  me  and  from  my  friends  be  such  frigid  philosophy  as  may  con- 
due*  us  indifferent  and  unmoved  over  any  ground  which  has  been 
dignified  by  wisdom,  bravery,  or  virtue.  That  man  is  little  to  be 
envied  whose  patriotism  would  not  gain  force  upon  the  plains  of 
Marathon,  or  whose  piety  would  not  grow  warmer  among  the  ruins 
of  Iona! "  The  gushing  Boswell  says:  "  Had  our  tour  produced 
nothing  else  but  this  sublime  passage,  the  world  must  have  acknowl- 
edged that  it  was  not  made  in  vain.  [The  tour,  or  the  world?]  The 
present  respectable  President  of  the  Royal  Society  was  so  much 
struck  on  reading  it,  that  he  clasped  his  hands  together  and  remained 
for  some  time  in  an  attitude  of  silent  admiration."  A  cruel  critic 
adds  that  nothing  in  American  literature  can  parallel  this  famous 
passage,  except  Mark  Twain's  outburst  of  feeling  at  the  grave  of  one 
of  his  blood-relations,  the  tomb  of  Adam! 

f  "Unto  this  place,  albeit  so  small  and  poor,  great  homage  shall 
yet  be  paid,  not  only  by  the  Scottish  Kings  and  people,  but  by  the 
rulers  of  barbarous  and  distant  nations,  with  their  people  also.  In 
great  veneration,  too,  shall  it  be  held  by  the  holy  men  of  other 
churches." 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  41 

The  objects  along  the  route  are  noted  in  guide-books; 
castles  with  tragic  associations;  bays  where  the  sea  fights 
took  place;  picturesque  islands,  like  the  "  Dutchman's 
Cap,"  very  like  a  huge  black  hat  with  broad  rim;  frown- 
ing headlands  with  light-houses;  wild  ravines  and  leaping 
cascades.     Christopher  North  exclaimed: 

"  Is  not  the  scene  magnificent? 
Beauty  nowhere  owes  to  ocean 
A  lovelier  haunt  than  this." 

Most  interesting  of  all  was  Sunepol  House,  overlooking  the 
Atlantic,  where  the  poet  Campbell  lived  when  tutor. 
There  he  wrote  his  "  Exile  of  Erin,"  and  much  of  his 
"Pleasures  of  Hope."  The  scenery,  he  says,  "  fed  the  ro- 
mance of  my  fancy." 

I  went  ashore  at  Tobermory,  the  capital  of  Mull,  a 
charming  spot,  full  of  sylvan  beauty  and  walled  in  by  tow- 
ering mountains.  Oban,  too,  was  a  restful  retreat  for  two 
nights,  a  natural  amphitheater  with  a  pleasant  modern  vil- 
lage of  stone  houses  in  a  single  street  along  the  bay.  The 
Gaelic  is  still  heard  on  every  hand.  In  one  of  the  shops  I 
tested  some  excellent  corned  beef  canned  in  Chicago. 

The  long  summer  twilight  was  noticeable  when  the  hour 
of  10  p.m.  was  tolled  from  the  church  tower;  I  rested  on 
my  oars  and  let  my  boat  drift  with  the  tide  as  I  read  in 
a  pocket  Bible  of  the  smallest  type.  Music  from  a  band 
on  shore  was  wafted  over  the  waters  and  died  away  amid 
the  distant  hills.  Here,  as  everywhere  in  Europe,  "  Grand- 
father's Clock  "  was  made  to  do  service,  the  popularity  of 
which  is  an  unexplained  musical  mystery. 


CHAPTER  III. 

England  and  Wales. 

liverpool. 

The  Sabbath  chimes  of  Birkenhead  Priory  were  ringing 
out  a  Sabbath  welcome  the  first  time  we  entered  the  port 


42  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

of  Liverpool.  It  was  such  a  day  as  George  Herbert  has 
described,  "  most  calm,  most  bright,"  and  full  of  auspicious 
auguries,  which  have  been  fully  realized  during  seven 
summers  in  England.  The  wild  thyme  on  the  hillsides 
made  the  air  sweet,  and  the  bosky  combs  beneath,  clothed 
in  rich  verdure,  reflected  the  rare  beauty  of  the  heavens. 
Some  one  has  compared  the  scenery  of  England  with  that 
of  Italy,  and  while  admitting  that  there  is  an  element  of 
soberness,  says  that  it  is  "  the  soberness  of  a  Doric  temple, 
with  its  decorated  frieze  and  intervals  of  rich,  exquisite 
sculpture,"  adorning  a  beautiful  shrine,  the  home  of  our 
ancestral  virtue. 

The  memories  of  Liverpool  are  those  of  princely  English 
hospitality,  as  hearty  as  it  was  abundant,  and  as  graceful 
as  it  was  generous.  Nowhere  in  the  world  is  domestic 
comfort  so  reduced  to  a  system  as  in  England.  The  guest 
is  made  to  feel  at  home,  not  only  by  the  unaffected  cordi- 
ality of  his  host,  but  by  the  felicitous  appointments  of  the 
dwelling  itself,  and  the  air  of  repose  that  broods  over  all. 
With  wealth  and  elegance  there  is  a  sense  of  peaceful 
seclusion,  cosy  quietude.  Things  are  for  use  rather  than 
for  display.  Americans  often  lavish  money  in  the  embel- 
lishments of  a  pretentious  yet  useless  luxury.  One  almost 
shivers  amid  the  splendors  of  some  silent,  sunless  parlors, 
crowded  with  all  kinds  of  costly  and  curious  bric-a-brac, 
works  of  art  and  quaint  conceits.  These  rooms  are  lighted 
by  gas,  and  warmed  by  heat  through  a  hole  in  the  floor. 
From  the  front  windows  are  seen  long  blocks  of  brick  and 
brownstone,  and  from  the  rear  the  back  yards  of  the  next 
block.  This  is  a  fair  picture  of  American  city  life  and  its 
"modern  improvements."  But  an  English  mansion  em- 
bodies essentially  different  ideas.  There  are  class  distinc- 
tions and  burdensome  conventionalities  which  shape  their 
society  which  we  do  well  to  ignore,  but  there  is  much  we 
may  with  advantage  imitate  in  their  home  life  and  ideas  of 
practical  comfort,  as  will  be  seen  further  on. 

Brief  glances  were  had  of  the  public  buildings  of  Liver- 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  43 

pool,  its  docks  and  its  churches.  I  heard,  one  Sabbath,  the 
then  vigorous  Dr.  Raffles.  Birkenhead,  Stoneleigh  and 
the  Necropolis,  Kendal  and  the  Lake  district  then  invited 
our  attention. 

The  ruined  castle  in  which  Catherine  Parr  was  born — 
last  wife  of  Henry  VIII. — was  the  first  I  had  ever  seen, 
and  so  it  made  impressions  peculiarly  novel  and  permanent. 
Tli ere,  shrined  in  moss  and  ivy,  stood  the  actual  realization 
of  early  thought  and  fancy,  an  ancient  castle.  Climbing  the 
hill  it  crowns,  I  stretched  myself  on  the  green  slopes  where 
the  cows  were  feeding  and  gave  myself  up  to  delicious 
reverie.  The  words  of  Washington  Irving  had  from  boy- 
hood voiced  my  aspirations.  He  writes  :  "  I  longed  to  tread 
in  the  footsteps  of  antiquity,  to  loiter  about  the  ruined  castle, 
to  meditate  on  the  falling  tower,  to  escape,  in  short,  from 
the  commonplace  realities  of  the  present,  and  lose  myself 
among  the  shadowy  grandeurs  of  the  past."  Thus  did  I 
answer  the  query  of  Horace,  "  Quid  terras  alio  calentes 
sole  mutamus  patria  f  " 

"  Why  change  our  country,  for  lands 
Warmed  by  another  sun  ?  " 

LAKE     WINDERMERE. 

An  English  "  fly,"  a  low  one-horse  vehicle,  took  me 
about  Windermere  and  along  the  Calgarth  Woods. 
"  Merlin,"  a  private  pleasure-boat  on  the  lake,  afforded 
other  views  of  this  Arcadia,  the  charms  of  which  are  too 
familiar  to  be  narrated.  The  prose  of  De  Quincey  and  the 
verse  of  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  and  Southey  are  the  best 
descriptions.  Dove's  Nest  recalls  Mrs.  Hemans  ;  as  Ray- 
rigg  recalls  Wilberforce  ;  and  Elleray,  Wilson.  Indeed, 
the  whole  region  is  as  rich  in  its  literary  associations  as  it  is 
full  of  the  elements  of  delicate  beauty.  Not  a  little  of  the 
tender,  almost  feminine  grace  and  idyllic  sweetness  of  the 
poetry  produced  by  the  Lake  School  is  to  be  traced  to  the 
genial  influence  of  these  serene  surroundings.  The  medi- 
tative Wordsworth  loved  the  mountains  and  woody  soli- 


44  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  ZA"  EUROPE. 

tudes  about  Grassmere,   and  speaks  of   them  as  beloved 
companions  with  whom  he  daily  talked. 

UP    AND    DOWN    YORKSHIRE. 

Leaving  the  main  line  at  Skipton,  I  went  to  the  famous 
waters  of  Harrowgate.  The  afternoon  happened  to  be 
fine.  Hill  and  dell  were  golden  with  flowery  glory. 
Meadow  and  stream  laughed  in  the  rare  sunshine  that  in- 
terspaced hours  of  sullen  gloom.  Yet  true  it  is  that  Nature 
gives  to  us  only  what  we  bring  to  her.  A  troubled  heart 
gets  no  joy  from  the  serenest  sky,  and  a  prosy  soul  gets  no 
poetry  from  the  exquisite  scenery.  When  Wordsworth 
and  his  devoted  sister  walked  as  they  were  wont,  day  by 
day  around  Grassmere,  they  once  came,  she  writes,  upon 
long  beds  of  daffodils,  resting  their  heads  on  mossy  stones 
as  on  a  pillow,  while  others  "  tossed  and  reeled  and  danced, 
and  seemed  as  if  they  verily  laughed  with  the  wind,  they 
looked  so  gay  and  glowing."  Contrast  this  with  De 
Quincey's  experience,  to  whom  the  sound  of  the  summer 
breeze  at  noon  was  "  the  saddest  sound "  in  the  world, 
as  if  it  came  from  graveyards,  and  this  because  of  early 
associations  of  sorrow  with  a  summer  noon.  Training,  as 
well  as  natural  tastes,  has  much  to  do  with  the  enjoyment 
of  scenery.  When  a  certain  party  of  tourists  came  in 
sight  of  that  emerald  gem,  Lake  Grassmere,  an  American 
stolidly  remarked,  "  Fine  pond,  that !  "  A  sawmill  would 
have  elicited  about  the  same  amount  of  responsiveness. 
Another  party,  returning  from  Italy  through  Switzerland) 
were  asked  in  Paris  their  opinion  of  the  Alps.  "  Alps  ?  " 
says  one,  scratching  his  head,  "  Alps  9  seems  to  me  we  did 
go  over  some  rising  ground."  He  may  have  been  an 
Englishman. 

But  here  we  are  at  Harrowgate,  Harlow-gate,  i.e., 
"  the  road  to  the  soldier's  hill,"  as  it  was  called  some  seven 
hundred  years  ago.  This  broad  200-acre  lot,  bordered  with 
forest  trees  and  the  villas  of  the  gentry,  cut  by  walks  and 
drives,  and  enclosing  John's  Well,  is  called  the  Stray  or 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  45 

common.  What  a  soft  drowsy  haze  rests  on  the  picture 
this  midsummer  afternoon,  and  how  it  seems  like  Saratoga, 
over  the  sea,  in  the  busy  idleness,  the  dolce  far  niente  sort 
of  life  you  see  about  you.  Those  nurses  and  babies  are 
making  the  most  of  this  exception  to  the  summer  days  of 
"79,  as  is  that  blind  musician,  who  on  the  greensward  is 
discoursing  strains  of  old-time  melodies  like  "  Portuguese 
Hymn."  Nobody  says  "  keep  off  the  grass,"  so  let  us  stroll 
down  to  Harrowgate  Well  and  taste,  of  the  curative  spring. 
Whew  !  what  an  odor  ;  no  wonder  that  some  one  wrote  on 
the  wall  that  Satan  while  flying  over  the  Harrowgate  Well 
"  was  charmed  with  the  heat  and  the  smell!''''  He  said  that 
he  knew  he  w^as  near  to — his  usual  residence.  A  taste  is  all 
one  cares  to  take.  Drop  into  the  sulphurous  liquid  a  six- 
pence. It  turns  black.  Never  mind,  leave  it  for  the  ser- 
vant. He  will  brighten  it.  He  is  as  little  affected  by 
sulphureted  hydrogen  as  a  plumber  is  with  sewer  gas. 
The  author  of  "  A  Season  at  Harrowgate"  says  that  the 
whole  kingdom  affords  no  better  scene  for  a  caricature 
than  is  beheld  here  at  drinking  hours. 

"  All  ages  and  sexes,  all  ranks  and  degree, 
All  forms  and  all  sizes  distorted  you  see. 
Some  grinning,  some  splutt'ring,  some  pulling  wry  faces, 
In  short  'tis  a  mart  for  all  sorts  of  grimaces. 
But  all  you  conceive,  of  age,  infancy,  youth, 
In  contortion  and  whim  must  fall  short  of  the  truth. 
One  screws  up  his  lips,  like  the  mouth  of  a  purse, 
While  his  neighbor's  fierce  grin  gives  threat  of  a  curse  : 
And  a  third,  gasping,  begs,  with  his  eyes  turned  to  Heaven, 
That  Ins  stomach  will  keep  what  so  lately  was  given  ; 
But  feeling  the  rebel  will  spurn  at  his  prayer, 
Throws  the  rest  of  his  bumper  away  in  despair."  ,     • 

Not  stopping  at  the  saline  and  iron  springs,  let  us  turn  to 
pleasanter  objects  like  Bolton  Abbey,  built  in  the  twelfth 
century  as  a  mother's  memorial  of  her  only  son,  drowned  near 
by  ;  Kirkstall  Abbey,  another  exquisite  ruin,  and,  above 
all,  Knaresboeo,  where  that  strange  character,  Eugene 
Aram,  the  scholar,  dwelt  from  1T34  to  1745,  whose  life 


46  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

mirrors  at  once  the  loves  of  Abelard  and  the  dark  mys- 
teries with  which  Hamlet  and  Faust  once  grappled. 
Familiar  with  the  ballad  of  Hood  and  the  romance  of 
Bulwer,  you  will  want  to  give  at  least  two  hours  to  this 
place. 

Ascending  the  lofty  limestone  ridge  on  which  this  unique 
old  town  is  built,  you  see  the  church  in  which  the  murder- 
ers of  Becket  hid,  1170,  also  the  crumbling  walls  of  the 
castle,  which  date  back  to  the  Norman  Conquest,  and 
which  recall  the  tragic  fate  of  Richard  II.  and  other 
bloody  memories.  There  is  a  deep  dungeon  of  hewn  stone 
and  a  secret  cell,  with  indentations  as  if  from  the  shackles 
and  manacles  of  prisoners.  The  chapel  cut  out  of  the  solid 
rock,  where  Saint  Robert  worshiped  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  is  another  relic  of  medieval  times.  His  cave  is 
further  down  the  Nidd.  Robbers  have  since  dwelt  there. 
This  is  the  place  where  Daniel  Clark  was  murdered  by 
Eugene  Aram.  A  half -hour's  walk  leads  us  to  it  along  a 
shady  river  bank.  "  'Tis  the  prime  of  summer  time,"  and 
the  bounding  boys  let  out  of  school  are  shouting  now,  as 
when  that  melancholy  man,  afterwards  the  usher  of  Lynn, 
described  by  Hood,  confessed  to  a  little  urchin  his  crime 
in  the  form  of  a  dream.  These  are  Yorkshire  boys.  Their 
speech  is  hard  to  understand.  A  gate  is  swung  open  by 
one  of  them  to  let  us  pass,  and  he  says,  "  Please  scramble 
a  ha'penny." 

By  a  winding  j>ath  a  hired  guide  leads  us  to  the  cave, 
enters,  lights  a  candle,  and  tells  the  story  of  that  wintry 
midnight  hour  when  Clark  within  this  dark  cavern  was 
struck  down  by  the  pickaxe  of  the  frenzied  man  whose 
jealousy,  long  nursed,  had  turned  to  madness.  The  inci- 
cidents  of  that  fateful  February  day  are  given  with  almost 
painful  minuteness  by  a  relative  of  one  who  lived  near  by 
at  the  time  and  knew  the  facts.  It  is  not  mere  morbid 
curiosity  that  invests  the  place  with  interest,  as  at  New- 
gate and  the  Hulks,  but,  as  Lord  Lytton  has  suggested, 
the  crime  of  this  cultured  scholar  is  so  strangely  episodical 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  47 

and  apart  from  the  rest  of  his  career,  that  it  is  a  problem 
of  philosophy  to  explain  it,  as  much  as  the  acts  of  Iago, 
Othello,  Macbeth,  or  Richard.  His  trial  has  been  con- 
sidered the  most  remarkable  in  the  history  of  English 
courts.  That  of  Professor  Webster,  of  Harvard  Uni- 
versity, for  the  murder  of  an  associate  professor,  whose 
body  he  burned,  November,  1849,  has  some  features  in 
common. 

Northward,  a  few  miles,  is  Fountain's  Abbey,  embowered 
in  groves  of  ilex,  cypress  and  oak,  where  Robin  Hood  had 
his  meeting  with  the  "  curtail  fryer."  Marston  Moor  is 
passed  six  miles  eastward  from  Knaresboro.  Here  Crom- 
well conquered  Charles  and  took  a  hundred  flags,  which 
the  Parliamentary  soldiers  tore  to  ribbons  and  bound  as 
trophies  round  their  arms.  That  bloody  victory  helped  to 
settle  the  great  struggle  of  the  seventeenth  century  be- 
tween Pi-otestant  liberty  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other 
absolutism  and  the  Papacy.  Chateaubriand  has  truly  ob- 
served, "  There  was  a  certain  invincibility  in  Cromwell's 
genius  like  the  new  ideas  of  which  he  was  the  champion. 
His  actions  had  all  the  rapidity  and  effect  of  lightning." 
"  The  troops  under  his  command,"  says  D'Aubigne, 
"  thought  themselves  sure  of  victory,  and,  in  fact,  he  never 
lost  a  battle." 

THE    CITY    OF    YORK. 

York  we  reach  at  evening,  a  grand  old  city.  Here,  it 
has  been  claimed,  one  Roman  emperor  was  born,  and  here 
two  others  died — Severus  and  Constantius.  We  need 
not  credit  the  monkish  chronicler,  Geoffry,  who  affirms 
that  a  grandson  of  ^Eneas  founded  York  b.c.  983,  while 
Hector  reigned  in  Troy,  and  Eli  was  High  Priest  in  Judea, 
any  more  than  we  do  the  statement  of  Sir  Thomas  Elliot 
that  Chester  was  founded  240  years  after  the  flood  ! 
Either  place,  however,  is  old  enough  for  the  mustiest 
antiquary.  My  stay  here  was  made  particularly  agreeable 
by  the  hospitalities  enjoyed  at  the  home  of  Prof.  T.     An 


0  OUT-BOOB  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

open  carriage  was  brought  to  the  door  after  lunch,  and  a 
long  ride  with  a  scholarly  companion  gave  me  a  better  idea 
of  York  than  any  printed  description  ever  had.  Walks 
about  town  the  next  morning  completed  the  visit.  Mr. 
George  Hope,  author  of  the  pamphlet  on  Castlegate  Stone, 
and  Antiquities  of  St.  Mary's,  showed  me  special  attentions. 
The  present  occupant  of  King  James'  former  mansion 
courteously  showed  me  through  the  apartments,  and  placed 
me  in  a  chair  once  used  by  Queen  Elizabeth. 

A  visit  to  the  ruined  Abbey,  the  Multangular  Tower, 
and  the  various  Bars  or  city  gates,  scarred  by  battle  and 
crumbling  with  age,  and  a  glance  at  some  of  the  glories  of 
the  famous  Minster — "the  grandest  building  in  Great 
Britain,"  as  Professor  Hoppin  of  New  Haven  says — these 
were  all  the  time  allowed.  It  is  not,  indeed,  the  length 
of  one's  stay,  but  rather  the  degree  of  preparedness  to  see, 
which  determines  the  real  satisfaction  enjoyed.  Forty 
miles'  ride  took  me  to  Driffield,  an  old  market  town,  and 
an  agricultural  center.  Yorkshire  is  called  the  "  Empire 
State  of  England,  the  Queen  of  English  counties,  in  size, 
population,  richness,  rural  beauty,  and  historical  an- 
tiquities." 

One  little  hamlet,  ten  miles  distant,  was  my  Mecca  this 
time,  the  town  of  Thwing.  It  was  sought  with  the  zeal 
of  an  antiquary  simply,  inasmuch  as  a  volume  bearing  this 
humble  monosyllable  was  then  in  preparation  by  a  kins- 
man. Stopping  at  the  rectory,  my  horse  and  driver  were 
housed,  for  it  was  raining  hard,  and  I  strolled  out  for  a 
walk  to  the  venerable  church  and  graveyard.  At  the 
College  of  Arms  I  had  learned  about  Sir  Robert  de  Thwing, 
Knight,  Lord  of  Kilton  Castle,  1237,  and  his  descendants 
who  were  engaged  with  Edward  I.  in  the  wars  with  Scot- 
land. Here,  over  the  altar,  is  a  memorial  window  bearing 
the  names  of  Archbishop  Lamplough  and  Baron  de  Thwing. 
Mural  tablets  record  other  names  5  the  stone  figure  of  a 
priest  holding  a  sacramental  cup  lies  in  the  chancel,  and 
there  is  a  large  baptismal  font,  which  i§  supposed  to  be 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  49 

seven  hundred  years  old.  The  carvings  of  the  stone  porch 
are  very  elaborate,  and  heraldic  insignia  embellish  the 
walls.  The  living  is  $900  a  year.  The  population  of 
Towing  is  but  365,  and  no  resident  has  been  known  for 
years  bearing  this  family  name.  The  wolds,  high  open 
tracts,  surround  the  village,  a*nd  the  fields  show  evidences 
of  high  cultivation.  The  cottages  of  the  farm  laborers  are 
one  story,  stone,  thatched,  or  covered  with  earthen  tiles. 
One  misses  the  neat  white  country  houses  everywhere  seen  in 
New  England,  owned  by  the  farmers  who  are  proprietors 
of  the  soil  they  till,  and  have,  therefore,  every  motive  to. 
thrift,  industry,  and  fealty  to  government.  Never  in  any 
form  can  Communism  be  tolerated  in  a  land  where  there 
are  many  small  properties,  guarantees  of  peace  and  loyalty. 
Hull  is  a  large  and  prosperous  town,  "  where  Plumber 
pours  her  rich  commercial  stream,"  as  Cowper  wrote.  In 
maritime  importance  it  is  only  surpassed  by  London  and 
Liverpool.  The  agricultural,  mining,  and  manufacturing 
products  of  the  north  find  easy  transportation  to  the  Baltic 
and  other  ports  of  Europe.  Its  history  the  past  seven 
centuries  is  rich  in  materials.  Here  Wilberforce  was  born, 
and  Andrew  Marvell  dwelt,  "the  British  Aristides." 
Statues  of  these  and  other  eminent  scholars  and  statesmen 
embellish  the  place.  By  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  G.  F.  Bristow, 
an  honored  merchant  of  Hull,  I  learned  something  of  the 
religious  and  philanthropic  work  going  on  here.  On  the 
Sabbath  I  heard  the  widely-known  Presbyterian  preacher, 
Rev.  Dr.  W.  P.  Mackay,  whose  style  was  somewhat  like 
Dr.  Talmage.  His  sermons,  however,  are  marked  by  satire 
rather  than  humor,  by  pungency  rather  than  wit,  by  rugged 
Saxon  strength  rather  than  by  showy  ornament.  He  was, 
moreover,  confined  in  a  high  pulpit  box,  which  fettered  his 
movements.  Like  Joseph  Cook,  he  made  his  prelude  as 
long  as  his  sermon.  Both  were  on  the  same  theme,  Luke 
18:9,  "Who  trusted  in  themselves  and  despised  others." 
It  is  an  age,  he  said,  of  superciliousness  and  haughty  pride. 
How  common  yet  how  disgusting  to  see  one  who  has  a  finer 


50  OUT-BOOB  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

bonnet  or  a  "better  furnished  head  or  a  few  more  pounds  in 
his  purse  than  his  neighbor,  to  look  down  upon  him  with 
disdain.  Better  pay  your  debts  with  black  hands  than 
steal  with  white  ones.  "  O,  go  on  to  the  more  comfortable 
truths  of  the  gospel,"  you  say.  "  No,  we  won't  hurry.  Let 
us  see  whom  the  cap  may  fit.  Try  it  on.  "  I  thank  thee  that 
I — "  Not  a  long  speech,  but  about  as  many  I's  as  you  have 
fingers  on  your  hands.  How  he  draws  out  the  awful  dis- 
qualifications of  his  neighbors,  and  sticks  to  his  own  good- 
ness. "  Or  even  as  this  publican.  Just  think  of  that  fellow 
who  presumes  to  stand  near  me  !  ./fast  twice  in  the  week." 
The  old  dyspeptic  perhaps  ate  too  much  ;  as  much  in  those 
five  days  as  the  other  in  seven. 

Thus  did  the  preacher  grapple  with  the  subject  and 
verse  by  verse  unfold  the  parable,  the  key-note  of  which 
he  made  to  be  in  the  single  clause  first  quoted.  Sweeping 
as  were  some  of  his  statements,  he  guarded  vital  points  in 
the  discussion,  as  when  he  disclaimed  sympathy  with  those 
who  sought  to  level  all  distinctions.  I  heard  Dr.  M.  again 
at  Mildmay,  some  years  after,  and  learned  with  sorrow  of 
his  sudden  departure  in  1885  while  he  was  visiting  the 
Hebrides.  His  dying  ejaculation  was,  "  God  is  light,  God 
is  love !  "  very  like  the  last  words  of  Canon  Kingsley, 
"  How  beautiful  is  God  !  " 

Two  nights  were  spent  in  Manchester.  Glimpses  of 
Leeds,  Birmingham  and  other  important  centers  had  to 
suffice.  One  of  the  proprietors  of  the  Leeds  Mercury 
kindly  pointed  me  to  objects  of  interest  and  put  some  rare 
reading  matter,  new  and  old,  in  my  hands.  When  the 
Romans  wrought  here,  they  appreciated  the  beds  of  clay 
and  limestone.  When  Henry  VIII.  ruled,  his  historian 
wrote  of  Leeds,  "  The  town  standeth  most  by  clothing," 
English  wool  being  the  finest  in  the  world  and  praised  by 
Julius  Cfesar.  The  elegant  Town  Hall,  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
building  and  various  church  edifices  interested  me.  Where 
St.  Peter's  now  stands  were  found  sculptured  stones,  be- 
lieved to  have    been    cut  by  old  fire-worshipers,  as  the 


E AG  LAND  AND  WALES.  51 

hieroglyphs  illustrate  Oriental  ideas  of  astronomy.  But  in 
the  throb  and  rush  of  these  modern  industries  these  memo- 
rials are  of  little  account  with  most  of  men. 

THE    UNIVERSITIES. 

The  cities  of  Cambridge  and  Oxford  are  not  unlike  in  their 
general  appearance.  Both  lie  level,  surrounded  by  meadows. 
The  one  is  encircled  by  the  Cam,  the  other  by  the  Cherwell 
and  Isis.  Both  have  their  exquisite  parks  and  gardens,  shady 
river  banks,  and  velvet  lawns  ;  their  venerable  buildings, 
forming  "  a  monumental  history  of  England,  exhibiting  all 
its  great  epochs"  in  the  architecture  itself  ;  and  in  both  we 
meet  the  same  gowned  scholars  and  academic  dignitaries. 
Cambridge  has  been  called  "  a  nest  of  singing  birds," 
having  sent  out  many  poets,  from  Edmund  Spenser,  1599, 
down  to  Alfred  Tennyson,  including  Dryden,  Milton, 
Byron,  Gray,  Coleridge,  and  Wordsworth.  Cambridge 
leads  in  mathematics,  and  Oxford  in  the  classics.  Poetry 
and  science  reign  in  the  one  ;  law,  logic,  and  politics  in 
the  other.  As  you  alight  from  the  railway  carriage  at 
Oxford  you  think  of  the  saying,  "  Change  here  for  Rome  !  " 
Let  us  first  look  at  this  old,  aristocratic  center,  of  which 
Ralph  Aggas  wrote,  1573  : 

' '  Ancient  Oxford  !  noble  nurse  of  skill  ! 
A  citie  seated  riclie  in  everye  skill ! 
Girt  with  woode  and  water." 

The  solitary  tower  of  the  castle  first  meets  your  eye,  where 
Alfred  the  Great  held  court  a  thousand  years  ago.  You 
think  of  that  "December  snow-storm  when  King  Stephen 
compelled  the  Empress  Maud  to  flee  from  it  on  foot  to 
Abington.  St.  Michael's  tower  recalls  the  martyr  Cranmer, 
who  there  looked  out  and  saw  the  burning  of  Ridley  and 
Latimer,  Oct.  12,  1555.  They  did  "light  such  a  candle,  by 
God's  grace,  in  England  as  shall  never  be  put  out."  The 
door  of  the  cell  which  confined  the  martyrs  is  still  shown. 
On  the  morning  of  March  21,  1556,  Cranmer  was  brought 
into  St.  Mary's  to  proclaim  his  adherence  to  Romanism,  but 


52   .  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

boldly  repudiated  it,  and  was  hurried  thence  to  the  stake. 
Here  now  are  preached  the  Bampton  Lectures,  the  Lenton 
and  University  sermons. 

Where  yon  fountain  gushes,  Jobn  Wycliffe  used  to 
preach  in  the  open  air.  There  is  Bishop  Heber'js  tree, 
shading  the  rooms  once  occupied  by  "  gentle  Reginald," 
known  by  his  missionary  hymn,  "  From  Greenland's  icy 
mountains  "  ;  further  on,  by  Cherwell's  banks,  is  "  Addison's 
Walk,"  where  the  pious  poet  loved  to  wander, 

"  Transported  with  the  view,  and  lost 
In  wonder,  love,  and  praise." 

"  Maudlen,"  from  the  Syriac,  means  "  beauty,"  and  is  the 
Oxonian  name  for  Magdalen  College,  founded  in  1456. 
Among  its  alumni  Were  Cardinal  Wolsey,  Lord  Jeffreys, 
John  Hampden,  Gibbon,  and  Bishop  Home.  Near  by  is 
Merton,  another  of  the  27  colleges  of  which  Dr.  Johnson 
wrote  : 

"  Who  btit  nmst  feel  emotion  as  he  contemplates  at 
leisure  the  magnificence  which  here  surrounds  him,  press- 
ing the  same  soil,  breathing  the  same  air,  admiring  the 
same  objects,  which  the  Hookers,  the  Chillingworths,  the 
Souths,  and  a  host  of  learned  and  pious  men  have  trodden, 
breathed  and  admired." 

By  that  window  studied  Prof essor  Vives,  the  incompara- 
ble sweetness  of  whose  speech,  according  to  Bishop  Butler, 
led  the  bees  to  settle  over  his  window,  remaining  there  130 
years.  When  removed,  an  immense  quantity  of  honey  was 
taken.  In  yonder  chamber  toiled  Richard  Hooker,  of  whom 
Pope  Clement  VIII.  said  :  "  This  man,  indeed,  deserves  the 
name  of  author.  His  books  will  get  reverence  by  age,  for 
there  are  in  them  such  seeds  of  eternity  as  will  continue 
till  the  last  fire  shall  devour  all  learning." 

But  time  fails  us  to  tell  of  John  Wesley,  Whitefield,  Dean 
Swift,  South,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Edward  Young,  Tom  Hood, 
Shelley,  Faber,  Herbert,  Lord  Mansfield,  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton, William   Penn,  Sir   Matthew  Hale,  Gladstone,  John 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  53 

Ruskin,  and  De  Quincey,  and  of  others,  dead  and  living, 
who  have  graced  the  records  of  this  memorable  seat  of 
learning. 

Do  not  forget  the  Bodleian  library,  with  its  400,000  vol- 
umes, rare  MSS.  and  curiosities,  including  Guy  Fawkes' 
lantern  ;  the  Hall  and  Kitchen  at  Christ  Church,  with  the 
ancient  gridiron,  more  than  four  feet  square,  used  centuries 
ago  ;  and  the  largest  bell  in  England,  Great  Tom,  17,640 
lbs.,  the  door  closer  of  Oxford,  which  at  9:05  p.m.  tolls 
101  strokes,  the  original  number  of  foundation  students. 
Milton  alludes  to  this  "  curfew  sound'  with  sullen  roar," 
which  has  been  heard  four  hundred  years.  Holman 
Hunt's  picture,  "  Light  of  the  World,"  at  Keble  Chapel,  is 
a  masterpiece  worth  seeing.     It  cost  $50,000. 

An  old  physician,  Dr.  Godfrey,  used  sorrowingly  to  say, 
"  Oxford  is  a  dreadfully  healthy  place  !  "  This  fact  is 
certified  by  the  ages  of  six  persons,  who  died  within  three 
weeks,  awhile  ago,  averaging  over  90  years,  and  by  the 
reference  of  Chamberlayne,  200  years  ago,  who  speaks  of 
Oxford  as  a  resort  for  invalids.  In  short,  we  may  ask  with 
Faber, 

"  Were  ever  river  banks  so  fair  ? 
Gardens  so  fit  for  nightingales  as  these  ? 
Was  ever  town  so  rich  in  court  and  tower  ? " 

At  Cambridge  I  visited  nearly  all  of  the  seventeen  col- 
leges, and  was  most  interested  in  King's,  with  its  magnifi- 
cent chapel  founded  by  Henry  VI.,  1446,  and  in  the  new 
imposing  structure,  Fitzwilliam  Museum.  Queen's  was 
the  residence  of  Erasmus,  and  Trinity  of  Barrow,  who 
had  in  an  eminent  degree  the  gift  of  continuance.  At  one" 
time,  after  preaching  three  full  hours,  he  was  only  brought 
to  a  conclusion  by  the  organist,  who  opened  on  him  a  full 
musical  broadside  and  so  extinguished  him  ! 

College  life  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  1547,  is  thus 
described  :  "Ryse  betwixt  four  and  fyve  ;  from  fyve 
untill  sixe  of  the  clocke,  common  prayer  with  an  exhorta- 
tion of  God's  worde  ;  sixe   unto  ten,  eyther  priyate  study 


54  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

or  commune  lectures.  At  ten,  dynner,  where  they  be  con- 
tent with  a  penye  pyece  of  biefe  among  fowre,  havynge  a 
few  porage  made  of  the  brothe  of  the  same  biefe,  wythe 
salte  and  otemel  and  nothing  else.  Teachynge  or  learn- 
ynge  untill  fyve,  supper  not  much  better  than  dynner,  im- 
medyately  after  the  whyche  reasonynge  in  problemes  or 
some  other  studye  untill  nine  or  tenne.  Beynge  without 
fyre  they  are  fayne  to  walke  or  runne  up  and  down  halfe 
an  houre  to  gette  a  heate  on  thire  feete  when  they  go  to 
bed."     There's  monastic  mortification  for  you  ! 

In  the  master's  lodge  of  Sidney  Sussex,  I  saw  the  famous 
crayon  portrait  of  Cromwell,  presented  in  1765,  a  most  strik- 
ing face.  On  an  oaken  door  of  an  attic  in  Christ's  College 
is  cut  the  name  of  Milton.  Here  lodged  the  great  poet,  toil- 
ing studiously,  as  he  says  "  up  and  stirring  in  winter  often 
ere  the  sound  of  any  bell  awoke  men  to  labor  or  to  devo- 
tion ;  then  with  useful  and  generous  labors  preserving  the 
body's  health  and  hardiness  to  render  lightsome,  clear  and 
not  lumpish  obedience  to  the  mind,  to  the  cause  of  religion 
and  our  country's  liberty,  in  sound  bodies  'to  stand  and 
cover  their  stations."  Remembering  that  Milton's  gray 
head  came  very  near  the  headman's  ax  for  truth  and 
liberty's  sake,  we  may,  as  Professor  Hoppin  says,  see  in 
Milton  himself  the  "  true  poem  of  a  heroic  life."  The  mul- 
berry tree  which  he  planted  200  years  ago  is  still  pointed 
out. 

A  comparison  between  the  moral  and  intellectual  bene- 
fits of  the  English  and  American  college  systems  would 
involve  a  discussion  of  the  whole  subject  of  state  patro- 
nage, of  ecclesiastic  endowments,  and  indeed  of  the 
national  life  out  of  which  each  springs.  America  is  young. 
Her  people  have  no  cloistral  or  aristocratic  institutions,  and 
are  impatient  of  systems  which  reflect  antiquated,  medieval 
ideas,  and  pei-petuate  the  power  of  a  churchly  hierarchy  or 
a  social  oligarchy.  The  early  monastic  schools  of  Eng- 
land were  valuable  only  to  a  few,  and  to-day  her  great  en- 
dowed schools,  according  to  Howard  Staunton,  are  theaters 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  55 

of  athletic  manners  and  training-places  of  the  gallant  Eng- 
lish gentleman,  but  do  "  neither  furnish  the  best  moral 
training  nor  the  best  mental  discipline.  The  best  friends 
of  these  schools  confess  that  they  contain  much  that  is  pe- 
dantic, puerile,  antiquated,  obsolete,  obstructive,  and  not 
a  little  that  is  barbarous,  and,  like  other  English  institu- 
tions, they  are  apt  to  confound  stolidity  with  solidity." 
This  intelligent  Englishman  pleads  for  the  classics,  but 
"with  far  more  pith  and  plenitude  than  at  present";  for 
science,  but  in  its  most  exalted  principles  ;  for  oratorical 
study  and  rhetorical  training,  and  for  a  national  university 
as  an  urgent  need.  Americans  may  do  well,  as  the  author 
of  "  Old  England  "  observes,  to  combine  something  of  the 
system  of  fellowships,  not  as  a  "  life  of  literary  epicur- 
eanism," but  "  in  the  modified  system  of  scholarships  ex- 
tending beyond  the  term  of  college  coarse,"  which  tend  to 
foster  the  pure  love  of  study  aside  from  the  popular  ends 
and  rewards  of  scholarship.* 

CHESTER  AND  NORTH  WALES. 

If  pressed  for  time,  you  can  see  both  in  one  day.  One 
night,  at  least,  ought  to  be  spent  at  one  of  the  attractive 
watering-places  along  the  shore,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Welsh  mountains — Llandudno,  for  example.  There  I  have, 
several  summers,  found,  at  very  moderate  rates,  accommo- 
dations at  the  Sherwood  House,  the  sea-side  home  of  the 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  of  Manchester. 

The  guide-books  give  ample  information  as  to  the  pic- 
turesque and  historic  surroundings.     The  cavern  is  shown 

*  There  is  also  the  proper  adjustment  of  mental  and  physical  dis- 
cipline. Dr.  R.  S.  Storrs  tells  of  a  student  of  good  habits  and  schol- 
arship whom  an  Eastern  college  rusticated  in  his  junior  year  for  too 
frequent  visits  to  a  bowling  alley.  But  for  all  that,  he  graduated 
with  honor,  and  two  years  later  was  elected  tutor  and  required  to  see 
that  students  did  not  neglect  the  bowling  alley  and  other  gymnastic 
duties  !  A  proper  balance  is  needed.  Body  and  mind  are  to  be 
trained  in  harmony. 


56  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

where  the  Romans  worked  in  copper,  when  Christ  was 
toiling  at  the  bench  in  Nazareth.  Their  tools  also  have 
been  found.  Roberts,  not  long  ago,  saw  a  family  who 
had  spent  their  lives  in  one  of  these  caves,  and  happily, 
too.  The  mother  said  that  she  had  given  birth  to  and 
brought  up  thirteen  children  in  that  rocky  retreat.  Re- 
mains of  ancient  Briton  huts  are  seen. 

But  this  "  queen  of  Welsh  watering-places  "  has  rivals, 
glimpses  of  which  you  get  passing  along  the  coast  by  rail. 
A  few  words  about  "  rare  old  Chester,"  a  quaint  picture- 
book  about  which  many  volumes  have  been  written,  yet  at 
which  ea«h  tourist  and  scholar  will  look  with  his  own  eyes. 
The  first  thing  that  impressed  me  was  the  vast  railway  en- 
terprises centering  here,  and  the  magnificent  building  which 
is  the  central  station,  1160  feet  front,  from  which  go,  or  to 
which  come,  21,500  passengers  daily.  Polite  officials  are 
in  attendance.  I  asked  one  of  them  the  hour  at  which  I 
could  go  to  Holyhead,  and  how  best  to  see  Chester.  He 
said  that  a  carriage  would  take  me  about  the  town  for  five 
shillings,  and  tram  cars  for  two  pence  were  running  to  the 
Roman  wall  and  river  Dee,  encircling  the  town,  from 
whence  I  could  return  on  foot  and  see  each  object  at  leisure. 
He  wrote  down  on  a  leaf  of  his  note-book  a  list  of  railway 
connections  and  hours,  tore  it  out  and  put  it  in  my  hand, 
without  a  bit  of  that  obsequiousness  with  which  many  gen- 
teel beggars  proffer  information  to  the  stranger  abroad. 
As  the  tender  was  leaving  the  pier  at  Liverpool,  not  long 
ago,  an  American  author  of  some  celebrity,  it  is  said,  re- 
marked, as  he  raised  his  hat  to  the  crowd  on  shore,  "  Gen- 
tlesmen,  if  there  is  anybody  in  your  country  to  whom  I've 
not  given  a  shilling,  now's  the  time  to  speak  !  "  I  am  sure 
that  Inspector  Price  would  have  resented  the  offer  of  pay 
for  his  attentions. 

It  was  the  noontide  hour  when  I  reached  Grosvenor 
Bridge.  My  simple  lunch  of  fruit  and  oatmeal  wafers  was 
enjoyed  while  seated  on  the  western  city  walls,  the  founda- 
tions of  which  were  laid  by  Roman  masons  when  Rome  was 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  57 

ruler  of  the  world.  Yonder  "wizard  stream,"  which  Brit- 
ons worshiped,  now  so  placid,  once  was  vexed  with  Caesar's 
oarsmen.  That  tower,  bearing  his  name,  was  built  by- 
Julius  Caesar,  tradition  affirms.  Imperial  coins,  pagan 
altars,  baths  and  statues  still  are  found,  though  growing- 
fewer,  like  the  books  of  the  Sibyl,  every  year.  The  tooth 
of  time  is  gnawing  them  away,  and  the  attempt  to  "  keep 
the  ruins  in  repair  "  has  not  always  been  as  successful  as  at 
Iona,  A  workman,  for  instance,  during  the  last  century 
was  directed  to  replace  the  heads  of  images  which  had 
tumbled  off  their  appropriate  shoulders  in  Chester  Cathe- 
dral. The  ignorant  mason  mixed  things  in  an  amusing 
way,  by  cementing  the  stony  skull  of  some  mailed  mon- 
arch to  the  body  of  a  tender  virgin,  and  putting  a  queen's 
head  on  a  king's  neck.  An  old  writer  observes,  "  We  will 
not  pretend  to  say  what  sort  of  a  head  the  artist  must  have 
had ;  he  knew,  however,  how  to  put  old  heads  on  young 
shoulders  ! " 

Speaking  of  Chester's  crumbling  churches  reminds  one 
of  that  peppery  paragraph  which  Dean  Swift  wrote.  Stop- 
ping here  awhile,  he  invited  some  ministers  to  dine  with 
him,  not  one  of  whom  accepted  the  courtesy.  He  vented 
his  spleen  as  follows  : 

"  The  church  and  clergy  of  this  city  are  very  near  akin, 
They're  weather-beaten  all  without  and  empty  all  within." 

In  an  old  chronicler  I  found  these  items  :  "  1489.  A 
goose  was  eaten  on  the  top  of  St.  Peter's  steeple  by  the 
parson  and  his  friends.  (A-spiring  man,  indeed  !)  1595. 
Ale  to  be  sold  three  pints  for  a  penny.  In  1605,  1313  died 
of  the  plague."  After  this  came  a  siege,  when  a  still  more 
fearful  mortality  prevailed,  and  grass  grew  in  the  business 
streets.  "  God's  Providence  House  "  is  said  to  be  the  only 
one  that  escaped  ;  and,  carved  on  the  oaken  beam,  I  read 
the  pious  testimony,  "  God's  providence  is  mine  inheri- 
tance." The  strange  streets  and  rows,  gates  and  towers, 
markets  and  hostelries,  with  overhanging  gables,  quaint 


58  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

panelings  and  burrowing  alleys  crowded  with  somber  rook- 
eries, the  churches  and  chapels,  ancient  crypts  and  clois- 
ters, can  not  be  described  in  detail,  nor  yet  the  Cathedral, 
which  I  saved  for  the  last,  "  gray  with  the  memories  of 
two  thousand  years."  Here  stood  Apollo's  temple,  and 
before  that  the  Druids  had  their  older  fane.  Entering  the 
gorgeous  edifice,  I  stood  in  the  choir  beneath  a  canopy  of 
oak,  surrounded  by  elaborately  carved  stalls,  pews,  pulpit, 
lectern,  throne,  o'erhung  with  richest  tracery,  and  "  dyed 
in  the  soft  chequerings  of  a  sleepy  light."  What  a  crowd 
of  associations  fill  the  mind  of  the  well-read  stranger  who, 
alone,  can  stand  and  think  in  a  place  like  this  !  This 
throne  was  a  pedestal  that  once  held  the  relics  which 
wrought  famous  miracles,  as  the  credulous  believed,  in  the 
days  of  the  Heptarchy.  Could  these  storied  walls,  that 
echoed  then  to  Dean  Howson's  voice,  speak  out  the  secrets 
which  they  hold,  what  a  vivid  romance  would  they  tell  us 
of  feudal  baron,  Christian  king  and  cloistered  saint.  These 
stones  are  smooth.  The  feet  of  monarchs  and  of  martyrs 
have  trodden  them.  These  monumental  inscriptions  em- 
balm the  most  precious  reminiscences  of  the  Church  and 
nation.  No  wonder  that  English  character,  nurtured  amid 
such  influences,  is  what  it  is.  As  the  biographer  of  Dr. 
Johnson  wrote  of  Chester,  so  each  visitor  writes,  "  I  was 
quite  enchanted,  so  that  I  could  with  difficulty  quit  it." 

WELSH  SCENERY. 

We  are  now  on  an  express  train,  which  is  going  forty 
miles  an  hour,  "from  Dee  to  Sea,"  to  connect  with 
the  Dublin  steamer.  We  have  left  the  hill  behind  from 
which  Cromwell  bombarded  Chester ;  Mr.  Gladstone's 
Park,  and  Flint  Castle,  where  Richard II.  and  Bolingbroke 
met,  as  described  in  Shakespeare's  tragedy.  Its  "rude 
ribs  and  tattered  battlements  "  are  fast  disappearing.  That 
Welsh  wonder,  "  St.  Winifred's  Well,"  which  gushed  where 
the  severed  head  of  the  virgin  nun  fell,  a  place  of  pilgrim- 
age since  the  days  of  the  Conqueror ;  the  smoky  collieries 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  59 

of  Mostyn  ;  the  vale  of  Owyd  ;  Rhyl,  a  popular  watering 
place  ;  the  prison  home  of  Richard  at  Rhuddlan  Castle  ; 
the  spire  of  the  Cathedral  City,  St.  Asaph  ;  remains  of 
Roman  camps;  Abergele,  where  the  horrid  burning  of  33 
railway  passengers  took  place  in  1868,  when  a  train,  dash- 
ing on  at  sixty  miles  an  hour,  collided  with  petroleum  cars; 
Conway,  with  its  ivy-clad,  embattled  towers,  14  feet  thick; 
the  church-yard  where  Wordsworth  met  the  little  maid 
who  would  have  it  "  We  are  seven,"  though  two  were  in 
that  churchyard  laid  ;  Bettws  y  Coed,  the  Druid's  Circle, 
overlooking  Beaumaris  Bay  ;  Llewellyn's  Tower;  Penrhyn 
Castle  and  Menai  Bridge — these  are  but  a  few  of  the  points  of 
interest  that  arrest  attention.  But  the  bewitching  beauty 
of  those  Welsh  mountains,  wreathed  in  coronals  of  purple 
mist  and  mingled  sunshine  ;  those  grassy  dells  and  flow- 
ery dingles,  in  which  pretty  cottages  and  churches  nestle, 
and  the  broad,  blue  sea,  unraffled,  in  which  were  seen  the 
lengthening  shadows  of  headland  and  island,  all  this  can  be 
imagined,  but  not  easily  described.  It  was  my  purpose  to 
ascend  Snowden,  not  to  catch  the  gift  of  inspiration  prom- 
ised to  him  who  slept  on  its  lofty  summit,  but  to  enjoy  the 
marvelous  prospect  of  four  kingdoms,  England,  Scotland, 
Wales  and  Ireland,  at  a  single  sweep.  Some  one  has  said, 
Caesar  must  have  stood  upon  this  sterile  peak  when  he 
formed  the  daring  conception  of  ruling  the  globe.  Twenty- 
five  lakes,  and  mountains  uncounted,  are  seen  when  the 
atmosphere  is  favorable.  But  the  summer  of  '79  was  an 
unfavorable  one  in  the  United  Kingdom,  and  so  I  turned 
away,  knowing  that  the  Alps  and  Apennines  were  yet  to 
come. 

From  Bangor  to  the  western  extremity  of  Anglesey  is  25 
miles,  just  about  the  length  of  the  name  of  the  first  village 
after   you   pass   the    colossal  bridge,  which  is  Llanfaik- 

PWLLGWTNGYLLGOGERTCHWTBNDROBWLLTTSILIOGOGOGOCH 

— 54  letters — "linked  sweetness,  long-drawn  out,"  yet  a 
word  every  day  used,  and  pronounced  in  a  single  breath, 
without  pause  !    These  mountaineers  must  be  a  healthy. 


CO  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

long-winded  race,  to  be  able  to  handle  words  as  long  as  the 
moral  law. 

The  conductor,  who  spoke  English  when  we  left  Chester, 
struck  out  right  and  left  into  Welsh,  soon  after  we  got 
into  the  dark  tunnel  region,  both  of  which  were  equally 
obscure.  It  is  a  mystery  how  the  sons  of  Cambria  cling  to 
their  vernacular,  and  that  the  Severn  and  the  Dee  divide,  as 
with  impassable  barrier,  one  nationality  from  another. 
Some  ascribe  this  antipathy  to  the  English  tongue  to  the 
remembered  cruelties  of  the  Lancastrian  family  ;  others  to 
the  teachings  of  their  ancient  bards  and  the  revival  through 
the  principality  of  the  Eisteddfodu  with  its  competitive 
exercises.  The  Welsh  are  a  pious,  thrifty  race,  and  even  a 
swift,  hurried  tour  will  give  one  a  pleasant  impression  of 
the  people,  as  well  as  of  the  principality. 

THE    ISLE    OF    MAX. 

Here  is  another  primitive  race,  a  little  sequestered 
nationality,  as  peculiar  as  the  miniature  republic  of  San 
Marino,  in  Italy,  or  Andorre,  away  among  the  Pyrenees. 
The  population  is  54,000.  The  language  of  the  Manx  is 
like  the  Erse  or  Irish.  I  found  it  still  spoken,  although 
dying  out.  Its  literature  is  rich  in  archoeologic  lore,  and 
has  been  saved  through  the  exertions  of  a  national  society, 
many  precious  carvals  (carols)  having  been  found  in  smoky 
tomes,  in  many  a  peasant's  hut.  These  MS.  ballads  record 
events  from  the  fabulous  period  before  the  sixth  century, 
down  to  the  days  of  Norsemen  and  Normand.  Their  in- 
sulated position  has  helped  to  perpetuate  among  the  Manx 
a  national  type  of  their  own.  As  lately  as  April  4,  1876, 
the  House  of  Keys  unanimously  voted  "  firmly  to  oppose 
any  attempt  to  absorb  the  ancient  sea  of  Sudor  and  Man,  or 
to  amalgamate  it  with  any  other  diocese." 

School  boards  are  compulsory,  and  the  daily  attendance 
of  pupils  strictly  enforced.  Governor  Loch  has  managed 
affairs  since  1863  with  public  spirit,  and  he  has  promoted 
postal,  telegraph  and  railway  communication  on  the  island. 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  61 

Five  hours  by  steamer,  direct  from  Liverpool,  bring  you 
to  Douglas,  75  miles.  The  Barrow  route  is  but  40.  The 
nearest  point  is  only  16  miles,  and  formerly  was  still  nearer, 
as  geologists  believe.  Indeed  it  is  said  that  over  the  shal- 
low strait  a  Scandinavian  King  once  tried  to  build  a  bridge. 
Mona,  as  Tacitus  called  the  island,  is  33  miles  long.  Sev- 
eral lines  of  railways  traverse  it.  I  selected  the  Castle- 
town and  visited  the  southern  shore  and  spent  a  night  at 
Port  Erin,  on  the  western  side,  near  Calf  of  Man.  The 
word  Man,  Maun,  or  Mona  is  believed  to  be  from  Sanscrit 
root,  and  significant  of  the  holy  repute  of  the  isle,  as  our 
word  Monk. 

Douglas,  an  attractive  town  of  10,000  people,  is  the 
center  of  interest.  It  is  built  on  terraced  hills  overlooking 
its  crescent  bay,  and  much  frequented  as  a  watering-place. 
But  the  student  of  nature  and  lover  of  antiquity  will  push 
into  the  interior,  and  ramble  over  the  ruins  of  old  Druidic 
temples,  altars,  groves  and  consecrated  fountains  ;  peer 
into  the  round  tower,  the  tumuli  and  cairns  where  the  urn 
of  human  ashes  still  is  seen,  and  the  stone  ambo,  or  pulpit, 
stands  as  of  old  ;  study  the  mystic  Runes  (secrets)  on 
cross  and  gravestone  ;  by  "  trap  "  or  steamer  visit  the 
rocky  cliffs  on  the  southwest  where  the  petrel  and  puffin, 
the  hawk  and  falcon  hover,  or  visit  the  Highlands  and 
climb  Sngefell,  where  one  can  enjoy  a  most  exhilarating 
prospect. 

The  metalliferous  hills,  worked  by  Romans,  are  yet 
yielding  wealth  in  silver,  lead  and  copper.  The  famous 
Laxey  Wheel,  about  220  feet  round,  attracts  many  to  the 
mines.  In  some  of  the  secluded  moorland  cottages,  the 
ancient  jacket  of  undyed  wool  and  the  Sunday  blanket  still 
are  seen.  Old  superstitions  as  to  fairies,  elves,  bugganes 
and  other  apparitions  yet  prevail.  The  story  of  the  specter- 
hound  that  haunted  Peel  Castle  is  referred  to  in  Scott's 
"Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel."  Shakespeare'  also  makes 
reference  to  this  historic  isle.  "  The  Cloven  Stones"  mark 
the  resting-place  of  a  Welsh  prince  who  brought  his  war- 


62  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

riors  here  before  the  Scandinavians  settled,  and  credulous 
people  have  been  seen  during  the  present  century  soberly- 
waiting  at  a  certain  hour,  to  behold  the  two  sides  of  the 
split  rock  strike  together,  as  it  was  believed  they  would, 
when  Kirk  Lovan  Church  bell  rang  a  Sunday  peal.  When 
the  first  Norwegian  King  landed,  fresh  from  the  conquest 
of  the  Orkneys  and  Hebrides,  he  was  asked  by  the  natives 
whence  he  came.  It  was  a  clear,  starlight  night,  says 
Brown,  and  pointing  up  to  the  Milky  Way,  glittering  in 
the  heavens,  he  said  :  "  That's  the  road  to  my  country." 
The  starry  belt  has  since  been  known  to  the  Manx  as  King 
Orrey's  road.  The  designation  of  the  bishopric  is  Sodor 
and  Man.  The  cathedral  at  Iona  was  called  Soder,  from 
2wr^,  Saviour.  Others  derive  Sodor  from  the  Nor- 
wegian word,  meaning  Southern  Islands. 

The  air  was  misty  during  my  visit,  and  the  ocean  out- 
looks enjoyed  in  the  Hebrides  were  not  granted,  but  the 
old  castles  and  church-yards,  the  pleasant  dells  and  hill- 
sides, bright  with  gorse  and  fern,  the  cairns  and  cottages, 
and  the  men  and  women  seen,  amply  repaid  me.  On  my 
way  back  to  Liverpool,  as  I  sat  on  deck  writing,  a  stranger, 
of  plain,  intelligent  appearance,  spoke  to  me  and  began 
asking  questions  as  to  America.  Others  drew  near,  and 
for  twenty  minutes  I  spoke  in  familiar  colloquy  on  Labor 
and  Capital,  Socialism,  Strikes,  the  needless  asperities  be- 
tween the  rich  and  poor,  and  the  chances  for  social  advance- 
ment in  that  vast  continent  over  the  sea.  I  never  spoke  to 
a  more  attentive  audience  in  any  lecture  room  than  that 
which  sat  around  me  on  the  fore  deck  of  that  fine  Manx 
steamer. 

SOUTHERN    ENGLAND  AND  ISLE  OF    WIGHT. 

The  rambles  about  the  birthplace  of  Shakespeare  and 
the  emotions  awakened  need  not  be  described.  The  blink 
of  sunshine  enjoyed  set  off  the  rural  beauties  of  Stratford- 
on-Avon  to  the  best  advantage,  and  a  noonday  meal  under 
the  humble  roof  of  a  canty  dame,  such  as  Goody  Blake 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  63 

once  was,  proved  a  pleasing  adjunct  to  the  excursion.  The 
wild  thyme  and  musk  rose,  the  oxlip  and  violet  were  just  as 
sweet  on  the  river  banks,  and  the  meadows  were  still 
painted  with  "  daisies  pied  and  violets  blue,  and  cuckoo 
buds  of  yellow  hue,"  as  when  the  boy  poet  chased  the  but- 
terflies over  the  greensward. 

With  different  emotions  did  I  walk  about  Bedford  to 
the  spot  where  the  Immortal  Dreamer  saw  heaven  opened, 
out  to  Elstow  cottage,  to  the  old  barn  where  he  held  meet- 
ings, and  the  village  church  where  he  rang  the  bell.  The 
words  of  Lord  Macaulay  came  to  mind,  "  This  is  the  high- 
est miracle^  of  genius,  that  imaginations  of  one  mind  should 
become  the  personal  recollections  of  another  ;  and  this 
miracle  the  tinker  has  wrought."  Nor  did  I  forget  gentle 
Cowper  as  I  crossed  the  valley  of  the  Ouse  and  looked 
away  towards  Olney's  "  calm  retreat  and  silent  shade," 
where  he  and  Rev.  John  Newton  used  to  sit  in  loving  con- 
verse till  late  into  the  night.  An  hour's  ride  brought  me 
to  London. 

THE    CITY    OP     LONDON. 

Its  present  magnitude  awes  you.  A  country  dame  on 
her  first  visit  to  the  sea,  looking  over  its  vastness,  and 
mentally  contrasting  it  with  the  pent-up  Utica  that  hither- 
to had  contracted  her  vision,  exclaimed  :  "  I'm  glad  to  see 
something  that  there  is  enough  off  "  In  1855  as  I  stood  in  the 
ball  on  the  top  of  St.  Paul's  dome,  that  which  from  the 
ground  seemed  a  nut-shell,  but  really  a  space  sufficient  to 
hold  a  large  family,  and  looked  up  and  down  the  Valley  of 
the  Thames,  a  score  of  miles  over  the  homes  of  millions — a 
city  then  ten  times  as  large  as  Boston,  from  which  I  came 
— I  felt  like  the  old  lady.  There  before  me  was  a  city 
that  was  simply  immense,  both  in  extent  and  population. 
But  thirty-three  years  have  made  it  still  larger.  It  is  a 
fetroad,  wide,  teeming  sea  of  humauit}',  a  study  for  the 
thoughtful — the  London  of  history  and  of  literature  ;  of 
commerce  and  manufactures  ;  of  science  and  art — the  Lon- 


64  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

don  of  our  nursery  rhymes,  and  the  center  of  the  world  ! 
Where  shall  one  begin,  and  when  and  where  can  he  end, 
in  the  exploration  of  its  labyrinthine  life  ? 

Outdoor  life,  of  course,  cannot  be  as  bright  in  smoky 
London  as  in  sunny  France  or  Italy,  but  its  varied  phases, 
though  somber,  are  interesting  to  study.  How  well  Dick- 
ens knew  these  streets  and  bridges,  and  what  realistic  in- 
tensity he  throws  into  his  prose  as  Thomas  Hood  has  put 
into  his  verse. 

LONDON"    BRIDGE. 

Let  us  stand  here  and  watch  the  pomp  and  pride  in  velvet 
and  silk  ;  the  want  and  woe  in  wretchedness  and  rags  ; 
those  who  laugh  and  sing,  and  those  who  weep  and  sigh, 
and  look  longingly  into  the  dark  water  as  a  possible  relief 
from  misery.  Think  of  the  history  of  old  London  Bridge, 
for  six  centuries  the  only  tie  between  the  town  and  the 
Surrey  Side  ;  a  town  in  itself,  inhabited  by  some  of  the 
richest  merchants,  who  not  only  had  their  shops  here,  but 
built  "  statelie  houses  on  either  side,  one  continual  vault  or 
root,  except  certain  void  spaces  for  the  retire  of  passengers 
from  the  danger  of  carts  and  droves  of  cattle."  So  wrote 
Norden  in  1624.  Here  lived  the  great  painters  Hogarth  and 
Holbein,  and,  for  a  time,  the  still  more  famous  John  Bun- 
yan.  The  heads  of  traitors  used  to  be  here  exposed,  such 
as  Jack  Cade  and  his  associates,  also  those  of  men  of  worth, 
like  William  Wallace,  Bolingbroke,  Thomas  More,  and 
Bishop  of  Rochester.  There  were  3000  perished  here 
when  both  ends  of  the  bridge  were  on  fire  at  once.  Under 
the  arches  of  the  stone  stairs  leading  to  the  water-side 
many  of  the  cadgers  of  London  burrow,  and  other  gypsy 
tramps,  rough  and  reckless,  who  in  Naples  might  be 
called  the  lazzaroni,  only  the  softer  climate  there  makes  a 
lazier  set. 

ALONG    THE    THAMES. 

We  have  begun  our  outdoor  rambles  with  London  Bridge. 
Let  us  keep  along  the  river-side,  up  and  down  between  the 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  65 

Temple  and  the  Tower  ;  London  Bridge  and  London  Docks. 
Into  this  dark  and  dingy  stream  of  humanity  we  launch  as  into 
a  swirling,  rushing  river.  Keep  your  eyes  about  you,  lest 
you  are  crushed,  or  run  over,  or  trodden  under  feet.  What 
a  tangle  of  bales  and  bags,  of  boxes  and  baskets,  of  cranes 
and  chains,  the  adjuncts  of  busy  traffic  in  the  world's 
throbbing  center !  Here  are  storehouses  and  ware- 
houses ;  steam  mills  and  factories  ;  fish-markets  and  junk- 
shops,  and  crowds  of  costermongers,  draymen,  sailors, 
carters,  clerks,  pedlers,  and  idlers  of  every  hue  and  nation- 
ality. The  swarthy  Lascar,  the  fairer  Swede  or  Dane, 
and  the  jet-black  Negro,  all  are  pushing  and  pulling,  helping 
with  hand  and  tongue  to  swell  the  ceaseless  roar  of  business 
that  rises  from  dawn  to  dark  from  these  narrow,  crowded 
thoroughfares  of  lower  London.  The  German  poet  and 
critic  Heinrich  Heine  said  that  this  was  the  place  for  a 
philosopher,  but  not  for  a  poet.  The  colossal  energy,  the 
solemn  earnestness,  the  hurry  as  if  in  anguish,  which  the 
tumultuous  life  of  London  illustrates,  "  oppresses  the  imag- 
ination, and  rends  the  heart  in  twain."  Yet  a  sweeter  spirit, 
Leigh  Hunt,  has  somewhere  said  that  the  art  of  cultivating 
pleasant  associations  is  a  secret  of  happiness.  He  forgot 
not  that  Spenser  was  born  atSmithfield,  Milton  at  Cheapside, 
Gray  on  Cornhill,  and  Pope  on  Lombard  Street  ;  that  Rose 
Street,  though  not  wholly  a  rose  garden,  was  Butler's 
home,  and  not  far  away  were  the  haunts  of  Dryden,  Pope, 
and  Voltaire,  to  say  nothing  of  the  crowd  of  poets  and 
authors  of  later  date  who  lived  in  the  din  and  smoke  of 
London. 

TOWER    OF    LONDON". 

Here  we  are  at  the  Tower,  the  most  interesting  building 
in  the  world  in  many  respects.  This  royal  fortress  is  a 
silent  volume  of  English  history.  Room  after  room  opens 
romance,  mystery  and  tragedy,  the  thrilling  influence  of 
which  is  measured  partly  by  one's  acquaintance  with  the 
facts   and   partly    by    his    responsiveness    td    sentiment. 


66       ■  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

Hazlitt  said  that  he  was  "  a  slave  to  the  picturesque,"  and 
it  would  seem  as  if  the  tall,  portly  beef -eaters  who  act  as 
guides  were  gotten  up  in  the  most  picturesque  style  possi- 
ble. Their  immaculate  broadcloth  frocks,  trimmed  with 
red  braid ;  their  velvet  hats,  gay  with  blue  ribbons,  and 
their  Cockney  speech,  are  decidedly  interesting.  Speaking 
of  Devereux,  or  somebody  else  who  fell  under  royal  wrath 
and  so  under  a  heading  ax,  our  dignified  but  loquacious 
warder  rattled  off  his  story,  beginning  with  the  perfectly 
safe  remark,  "  Ef  'eed  lived,  'eed  never  have  lost  'is  'ed. 
Now  then,  'ear  is  the  silly-brated  Toledo  blades,  werry 
pritty.  Over  yer  'eds  the  wall  is  sixteen  feet  thick.  Show 
yer  yaller  tickets,  please."  Then  he  went  from  "  grave  to 
gay,  from  lively  to  severe,"  having  an  eye  to  the  recompense 
of  reward  in  silver  or  golden  coin  which  each  trip  is  likely 
to  secure.  He  told  me  that  twenty-one  persons  made  a 
full  party,  and  that  he  made  three  journeys  daily,  one 
hour  each.  He  thought  that  that  was  a  large  day's  work. 
I  thought  it  an  easy  one.  Still,  he  had  twice  as  much 
avoirdupois  to  carry  about,  besides  a  great  deal  of  dignity 
and  red  tape.  As  Mark  (the  perfect  man)  says,  "  One  of 
such  awful  tonnage  should  be  carried  in  sections." 

Guide-books  give  all  needed  information  about  the 
ten  centuries  of  history  that  center  here  ;  the  dimensions 
of  this  vast  Bastile  ;  the  facts  and  legends  of  its  hoary 
stones,  and  gates,  and  dungeons,  and  the  statistics  of  the 
wealth  stored  up  in  jewels,  diadems  and  precious  relics. 
A  single  crown  shown  me  had  3066  .diamonds,  and  I  was 
told  that  its  value  was  a  million  pounds  sterling.  More 
interesting  are  the  memorials  of  the  gentle  Lady  Jane 
Grey,  of  Dudley,  Raleigh,  Anne  Boleyn,  and  the  Princes  ; 
the  garments  worn  by  the  good  and  great  of  kingly  and  of 
civic  renown,  and  the  words  they  had  left  on  wall  or  window, 
in  treasured  book  and  manuscript.  In  the  British  Museum, 
also,  one  of  antiquarian  tastes  will  enjoy  much  in  this 
line,  besides  the  treasures  of  modern  science  and  literature 
gathered  there. 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  67 


TUSSAUD  S   WAX   FIGURES. 


Coming  direct  from  the  British  Museum  one  day  to 
Tussaud's  Historical  Gallery,  I  was  prepared  to  enjoy  the 
latter  to  its  full.  It  was  like  the  stereopticon  pictures  that 
follow  a  lecture,  or,  rather,  like  an  introduction  to  the  very 
scenes  described.  In  the  Museum  you  see  the  books  that 
were  handled  and  the  manuscript  letters  that  were  written 
by  the  kings  and  queens  of  centuries  ago  ;  in  the  gallery 
you  see  the  faces  and  forms  of  those  celebrities,  apparently 
instinct  with  life,  ruddy  with  health,  and  standing  waiting 
to  welcome  you.  The  molding  in  wax,  the  coloring  of  the 
complexion,  the  attitude  and  grouping,  the  garments  worn, 
and  the  other  accessories,  are  so  thoroughly  life-like, 
you  can  hardly  believe  that  these  are  not  real  existences. 
The  passing  footsteps  or  the  jar  of  the  street  often  gives 
a  tremor  to  the  jewel  that  hangs  from  breast  or  ear,  and 
you  imagine  a  rebuke  to  your  impudent  stare  is  about  to 
fall  from  those  lips  that  look  so  warm  and  rosy.  There  sits 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  ready  to  be  executed,  with  the  rosary 
she  held  when  beheaded,  three  hundred  years  ago,  slipped 
through  her  hand  and  fallen  on  the  floor  ;  there  Jane  Grey, 
Marie  Antoinette,  Anne  Boleyn,  Catharine  Howard, 
Joan  of  Arc,  and  many  others  whose  tragic  deaths  are 
familiar. 

Of  the  general  accuracy  of  their  portraits,  size  and  pro- 
portions, and  of  the  historic  fidelity  of  their  drapery  and 
general  appearance,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  The  grave 
seems  robbed  of  the  dead,  and  the  dust  reanimated,  and 
returned  to  the  homes  of  other  days.  Here  stands  the 
kingly  form  of  Henry  VIII.  in  his  grand  court  dress,  with 
all  his  wives  about  him,  robed  in  queenly  splendor  ;  Henry 
III.,  who  in  1226  first  enjoyed  in  England  the  luxury  of  a 
carpet,  introduced  from  Spain  in  place  of  straw  and  rushes  ; 
the  present  queen  and  her  court  ;  her  late  husband  and  the 
lamented  Alice,  recently  deceased  ;  the  children  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  at  play  with  dog  and  doll ;  the   Berlin 


68  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

Congress,  the  Pope  and  other  Papal  dignitaries,  and  that 
troublesome  Arthur  Tooth,  of  the  English  Church,  stiff, 
stern,  sad,  as  if  sore  and  aching  under  the  eoclesiastical 
dentistry  to  which  he  has  been  subjected.  But  time  fails  to 
tell  of  all  the  great .  reformers  like  Knox,  Calvin  and 
Luther  ;  statesmen  like  Palmerston,  Brougham,  Peel, 
Cobden,  and  Bright  ;  the  scholars,  Shakesj^eare,  Chaucer, 
Wycliffe,  Macaulay,  Voltaire,  Byron,  and  Scott  ;  foreign 
potentates,  military  men,  and  celebrities  of  all  periods, 
down  to  Grant,  Lincoln,  Andy  Johnson,  Uncle  Tom,  and 
Mr.  Beecher. 

Pass  now  into  the  "  Golden  Chamber."  Here  is  the  bed 
on  which  Napoleon  breathed  his  last,  with  the  blood-stains 
made  by  the  lancet,  vainly  used  to  give  relief  in  his  last 
hours  from  the  pain  of  that  cancer  of  the  stomach  which 
consumed  him  ;  the  cloak  he  wore  at  Marengo  ;  his  watch, 
stopped  at  2:30,  the  moment  of  death  ;  his  other  garments, 
his  favorite  garden  chair  ;  the  atlas  in  which  he  drew  his 
battle  plans  ;  his  table  ware  ;  swords,  canrp  equipage,  and 
the  carriage  in  which  he  rode  to  the  disasters  of  Russia  and 
Waterloo.  Here  are  the  garments  of  Nelson,  worn  at  the 
battle  of  the  Nile,  and  those  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  when 
stabbed  by  Ravaillac,  dyed  with  the  blood  of  the  martyred 
king.  Finally  comes  the  "  Chamber  of  Horrors,"  which 
some  will  do  well  to  omit,  and  I  will  not  describe,  men- 
tioning only  the  forms  of  Marat  and  Robespierre,  the  key 
of  the  Bastile,  and  the  original  guillotine  by  which  22,000 
were  decapitated  in  the  first  French  Revolution,  considered 
the  most  extraordinary  relic  in  London. 

HIGH    LIFE    AND     LOW    LIFE. 

Hyde  Park  and  Buckingham  Palace  are  not  far  away, 
Westminster  and  Belgrave  Square,  yet  amid  the  rich  equi- 
pages and  liveried  footmen,  here  and  there  mingle  the 
poor  and  humble,  the  nondescript  and  castaway.  So  every- 
where, whether  in  Pall  Mall,  with  its  club-houses,  Pater- 
noster Row,  the  book  center,  or  in  Seven  Dials  and  Devil's 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  09 

Acre,  Slioreditch  and  Whitechapel,  this  great  Babylon 
presents  continual  and  startling  contrasts.  The  name  does 
not  always  indicate  the  present  condition  of  the  place,  as 
Rosemary  Lane  for  example.  Few  flowers  will  you  see, 
and  little  that  is  agreeable  to  sight  or  smell.  Localities 
once  associated  with  Burke,  Addison,  Goldsmith,  Boswell, 
and  Johnson,  are  not  now  quite  in  keeping  with  these 
names.  But  when  one  thinks  of  more  than  four  million 
people  packed  into  London,  the  density  of  the  population  is 
evident  in  the  deterioration  of  certain  neighborhoods.  I 
was  interested  in  visiting  some  mission  centers  and  seeing 
what  was  done  for  the  degraded  and  desperate  classes. 
Several  hundred  lay  missionaries  are  doing  noble  service, 
and  are  not  laboring  in  vain.  One  meeting  I  attended 
among  a  company  of  robbers  and  prostitutes,  whom  it 
would  not  be  safe  to  meet  under  ordinary  circumstances 
unprotected.  The  words  of  Scripture,  of  prayer  and  en- 
treaty, moved  some  to  loud  weeping,  which  showed  sin- 
cere through  perhaps  transient  feeling.  The  "  Seven 
Curses  of  London  "  have  been  justly  named,  "  Neglected 
children,  professional  thieves,  professional  beggars,  fallen 
women,  drunkenness,  gambling,  and  last,  not  least,  mis- 
applied alms."  Blanchard  Jerrold  says  that  £1500  are 
often  coaxed  from  a  dinner  party  of  150  gentlemen  at  Lon- 
don Tavern,  no  tax  being  more  willingly  paid  than  the  din- 
ner tax,  "  a  grace  that  follows  your  meat  and  sanctifies  it,'.' 
to  use  Thackeray's  words.  Three  thousand  unpaid  teachers 
give  the  leisure  of  their  evenings,  after  days  of  toil,  to  the 
work  of  teaching  the  street  Arabs.  This  is  nobler  and 
more  fruitful  effort  than  the  gift  of  money  to  mendicants. 
It  was  my  privilege  to  mingle  with  the  extremes  of  society, 
West  End  life  and  East  End  :  to  enjoy  the  hospitalities  of 
the  wealthy,  and  to  look  into  the  homes  of  the  humble.  I 
shall  not  forget  the  hearty  welcome  received  at  a  social 
meeting  in  Deane's  Court,  near  old  Bailey,  one  night,  and 
how  eagerly  the  words  of  "  the  stranger  from  America " 
were  heard.     Hundreds  of  these  beacon  lights  are  burning 


70  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

amid  the  moral  darkness  of  London.  These  social  gath- 
erings and  still  larger  ones  in  connection  with  coffee- 
houses, where  music  is  furnished,  offset  the  attractions  of 
the  gin  palace  and  the  "  penny  gaff,"  the  rat  pits  and  dance 
halls.  In  the  thieves'  Latin  the  missionary  is  called  "  the 
gosj>el  grinder,"  but  he  saves  many  a  lost  one,  who,  but  for 
him,  would  go  to  grind  in  the  prison  house  of  despair.  It  is 
estimated  that  one  person  out  of  every  150  is  a  housebreaker, 
thief,  forger,  or  some  other  kind  of  criminal.  Nearly  all  of 
these  25,000  or  more  are  known  to  the  police.  On  the  other 
hand,  as  James  Greenwood  observes,  each  of  this  predatory 
crew  knows  the  detective  and  smells  "  trap  "  as  keenly  as  a 
fox.  The  innocent  smock-frock  or  bricklayer's  jacket  or 
loose  neckerchief  cannot  conceal  his  approach.  They  scent 
him  from  afar,  and  know  when  it  is  safe  to  "  pinch  a  bob  " 
(rob  a  till),  "  go  snowing  "  (rob  linen),  and  when  it  is  not 
safe.  Their  cleverness  and  subtlety  are  amazing.  Some 
are  so  seared  in  conscience  as  to  be  apparent! }r  desperate. 
Others  would  welcome  honest  employment  if  offered,  and 
so  escape  the  hazard,  anxiety,  and  torment  of  their  wolfish 
life.  The  model  houses  built  by  Burdett  Coutts  and  George 
Peabody  suggest  still  another  practical  form  of  alleviating 
the  woe  and  want  of  London  poor. 

LONDON    OPIUM   DENS. 

It  was  Saturday  night.  The  streets  of  London  in  the 
neighborhood  of  East  India  Docks  were  full  of  motley 
crowds.  Green -grocers,  fiskwomen  and  peddlers  of  odd 
wares  had  their  stands  along  the  edge  of  the  walk.  Shouts 
and  laughter  and  coarse  voices  were  heard  on  every  hand. 
Pushing  on  our  way  we  came  to  a  den,  and  entered.  Dark, 
swarthy  faces  met  us  as  we  peered  into  the  gloom  of  a  rear 
room.  My  guide  first  spoke  in  Malay,  then  in  English.  A 
score  of  tongues  serve  his  use.  We  were  directed  upstairs 
and  entered  a  dismal  dirty  attic,  a  Chinese  gambling  den.  A 
pile  of  coin  lay  on  the  table;  an  idol  stood  near  it,  with  sacred 
sticks  burning-,  as  candles  in  Romish  worship.     These  are- 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  11 

bought  and  burned  to  ensure  success,  and  also  in  memory 
of  the  dead.  Anything  to  swell  the  keeper's  receipts.  He 
is  well  known  to  the  police,  but  it  is  not  wise  to  repeat  all  Ave 
have  heard  from  his  lips.  In  another  den,  I  saw  a  China- 
man lying  recumbent,  beside  a  dimly  burning  lamp,  the 
feeble  light  of  which  lent  a  lurid  glare  to  a  dingy  cell. 
Raising  himself  from  a  greasy  pillow  he  sat  up  and  greeted 
us  in  broken  English.  Holding  a  little  of  the  opium  paste 
on  the  end  of  a  wire,  he  warmed  it  in  the  flame  of  the 
lamp,  then  smeared  the  disk.  The  drug  looks  like  dry  cow 
dung  at  first,  but  is  boiled  to  the  consistency  of  treacle.  It 
costs  about  two  dollars  an  ounce  ;  a  costly  vice.  We  re- 
monstrated, and  he  admitted  that  it  was  "  No  good." 
Joined  to  his  idol,  we  let  him  alone.  The  week  before  he 
was  wedded  to  a  wretched  female,  an  habitue  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. What  a  progeny  comes  from  such  a  stock  ! 
Better,  indeed,  were  it  never  to  be  born  than  to  have  an 
opium  den  for  a  cradle,  and  a  courtesan  for  a  nursing 
mother.  The  next  house  was  a  house  that  leads  down  to 
hell.  It  is  kept  by  "  a  beast  of  a  woman,"  as  my  guide 
told  me.  She  was  born  in  Italy,  led  a  Gipsy  life,  with  a 
snake-charmer  and  juggler  for  a  companion.  With  a  leer 
in  her  eye  and  unctuous  tones  in  her  speech,  she  bade  us 
enter.  We  climbed  to  the  smoke-room  by  a  crooked, 
rickety  staircase.  Ragged  papers  are  pasted  over  cracked 
and  broken  window-panes  ;  cobwebs  and  filth  abound. 
Little  do  they  care  who  come  hither  to  drown  their  senses 
in  the  intoxication  of  opium.  There  lies  an  Arab  ;  his 
face  is  black,  but  between  his  parted  lips,  teeth  white  as 
ivory  shine.  Some  one  has  said,  "  The  idiot  smile  and 
death-like  stupor  of  an  opium  debauchee  has  something 
more  awful  than  the  bestiality  of  the  ordinary  drunkard." 
I  was  glad  to  get  a  breath  of  outside  air,  poor  as  that  was, 
and  I  was  ill  all  the  night  following. 

Shall  New  Yoi-k  and  Chicago  import  this  leprous  curse  ? 
Shall  blear-eyed  men  and  women  of  our  large  cities  con- 
tinue to   stagger  out  of  these  dens  ?     Fearful  as  is  alco- 


n  OUT-DOOR  LIFT!  IN  JSUBOPR 

holic  intemperance,  it  is  "  almost  harmless  in  comparison," 
as  a  recent  writer  observes. 

OLD    JACOB    STOCK. 

I  used  to  follow  him  in  imagination  in  his  daily  visits  to 
the  temple  of  Plutus,  in  Threadneedle  Street,  and  see  him, 
as  described  in  boyhood  readings,  the  stout-built,  round- 
shouldered,  bearish-looking  man  of  hard  face  and  harder 
heart ;  with  gray,  glassy  eye  and  wrinkled  brow,  where 
the  interest  table  and  the  rise  and  fall  of  stocks  were 
written.  Through  wind  and  rain,  and  hail  and  sleet,  he 
made  his  journeys,from  his  bachelor  abode  to  the  field  of 
his  speculation,  always  looking  for  the  main  chance.  As  I 
mingled  with  the  crowds  along  the  street,  front  of  the  Ex- 
change and  Mansion  House,  it  was  easy  to  pick  out  Jacob. 
It  is  pleasant  to  believe,  however,  that  there  are  a  hundred 
large-hearted  men  to  one  crabbed  skinflint  like  Jacob  Stock. 
A  Leadenhall  merchant  courteously  introduced  me  into  the 
Bank  of  England,  through  lines  of  clerks,  depositors,  detec- 
tives, beadles  and  footmen  ;  through  piles  of  ledgers  and 
account-books  ;  into  weighing  room  and  vaults,  where 
money  was  plenty  enough  to  satisfy  Shylock  himself.  One 
of  the  officials  kindly  presented  me  with  £2,000,000  in  bank 
notes  ready  for  delivery.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  ever 
held  between  thumb  and  forefinger  ten  million  dollars  in  a 
single  bunch  of  bills.  For  the  moment  I  felt  as  comforta- 
ble as  the  penniless  preacher  did  each  Sunday  who  always 
borrowed  on  Saturday  a  ten-dollar  note,  which  he  returned 
Monday  morning.  He  said  that  he  got  along  nicely  with 
that  in  his  pocket,  for  he  had  not  yet  learned  to  "  preach 
without  notes."  The  officer  informed  me  that  he  had  a 
couple  of  hundred  millions  more  left  of  John  Bull's  money. 
He  also  tantalized  me  further  by  handing  over  a  heavy 
bag  of  gold.  Indeed  his  liberality  was  overwhelming. 
Yet  I  left  as  poor  as  I  entered. 

LONDON    PARKS. 

The  family  of  whom  first  *I  hired  lodgings  lived  near 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  T3 

Hyde  Park.  This  has  about  400  acres  and  is  beautified 
by  a  winding  stream,  the  Serpentine.  Imposing  reviews 
of  horse  and  foot  attract  thousands  to  this  lovely  retreat. 
The  Kensington  Gardens  and  Museum  are  contiguous,  also 
Green  and  St.  James  parks.  The  zoological  and  horticul- 
tural attractions  of  Regent's  Park  were  fully  enjoyed. 
Repeated  visits  were  made  to  Crystal  Palace,  Sydenham,  a 
little  way  out  of  town.  The  grounds  embrace  200  acres 
and  are  embellished  with  floral  beauty,  works  of  art,  foun- 
tains, and  cascades.  The  Aquarium  and  the  concerts,  the 
opportunities  for  archery,  boating,  and  other  athletic  exer- 
cises, and  the  display  of  industrial  and  artistic  skill  furnish 
entertainment  to  thousands  daily.  Seven  million  dollars 
have  been  expended  on  the  palace  and  grounds.  There 
are  thirty  other  "lungs  of  London,"  known  as  parks  or 
squares,  besides  smaller  oases  and  bits  of  green  where  the 
eye  pastures  with  as  keen  delight  as  do  the  browsing 
sheep. 

The  stranger  gains  a  more  cheerful  idea  of  the  great 
metropolis  as  he  walks  through  these  breathing-places  and 
sees  the  happier  side  of  city  life.  Excursions  up  and  down 
the  river,  for  a  penny  or  more,  according  to  the  distance,  I 
found  exceedingly  interesting,  as  afterwards  on  the  Seine 
at  Paris.  Greenwich,  with  its  hospital,  park,  and  Royal 
Observatory,  Woolwich,  with  its  vast  arsenal,  Hampton 
Court,  with  its  royal  pictures  and  gardens,  Hampstead 
Heath,  the  haunts  of  Landseer,  Highgate,  Epping  Forest, 
Stamford  Hill,  Cheshunt,  Rye  House^  with  its  tragic  mem- 
ories, Croyden,  Surbiton,  Epsom,  Ewell,  Kingston,  where 
Saxon  kings  were  crowned,  these  places  are  also  remem- 
bered with  pleasure.  But  one  is  oppressed  with  the 
abundance  of  materials.  He  may  remain  for  years  and 
only  make  a  beginning.  Were  I  to  describe  the  indoor 
sights  alone  ;  the  churches  and  preachers  ;  the  galleries  of 
pictures  examined  ;  the  halls  and  museums  ;  the  House  of 
Commons  and  its  debates  ;  the  dinner  parties  and  the  meet- 
ings of  learned  societies,  a  bulky   volume  would  be  the 


74  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

result.  Day  after  day  the  surgical  clinics  at  the  Univer- 
sity College  Hospital,  visits  at  Queen's  Square,  Bedlam, 
St.  Bartholomew,  and  other  infirmaries  occupied  my  atten- 
tion and  brought  me  into  fellowship  with  eminent  phy- 
sicians aiid  surgeons.  London's  104  hospitals  accommo- 
date 60,000  patients,  but  80,000  die  uncared  for  every  year. 

Specially  was  I  favored  in  being  able  to  attend,  in  18S6, 
at  Brighton,  the  fifty -fourth  annual  meeting  of  the  British 
Medical  Association.  Over  a  thousand  doctors  from  Eng- 
land and  other  lands  assembled  for  four  days  in  the  Royal 
Pavilion,  the  summer  palace  of  George  IV.  of  long  ago.  It 
was  of  this  extravagant  edifice  Byron  wrote  the  sneer 
"  Shut  up  the  Pavilion,  or  'twill  cost  another  million."  Not 
often  do  we  find  such  sumptuous  quarters  for  the  gath- 
ering of  scientists.  May  it,  however,  prove  prophetic  of 
the  day,  referred  to  by  Surgeon-General  Billings,  IT.  S.  A., 
when  Wealth  shall  more  fully  become  handmaid  to  Truth 
and  Knowledge.  The  work  of  this  great  association  is 
done  in  nine  sections.  That  of  Surgery  and  Psychology 
most  engaged  my  attention.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  and 
speak  with  men  like  Erichson,  Hack  Tuke,  Professor  Char- 
cot of  Paris,  and  Sir  Henry  Thompson,  whose  fame  is 
world-wide.  I  had  been  invited  in  June  to  accompany 
Dr.  Tuke  on  a  visit  to  Shakespeare's  "  Bedlam,"  founded  as 
an  ancient  hospicium  in  1247.  It  became  an  insane  retreat 
in  1400,  and  now  has  about  260  patients.  Professor  Victor 
Horsley  kindly  notified  me  of  an  operation  June  22,  at  the 
"  National,"  Queen's  Square,  London,  where  I  saw  him  re- 
move a  tumor  of  the  brain  for  epilepsy.  The  patient 
recovered  and  was  at  the  meeting  at  Brighton,  where  the 
case  was  described  and  photographs  shown  by  the  lantern 
of  the  steps  of  the  operation,  "  the  most  remarkable  appli- 
cation of  pure  science  to  practical  surgery  that  has  ever 
been  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  profession,"  as  Erichson 
said,  "  one  that  opens  a  new  era,  that  of  cerebral  surgery." 

"  We  touch  and  go,  and  sip  the  foam  of  many  lives," 
says  Emerson.     This  is  a  "  touch  and  go  "  out-door  ramble. 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  To 

Only  a  sip  is  had  here  and  there  of  the  wine  of  life.     To 
rural  scenes  we  turn  once  more. 

WINDSOR    AND    ETON. 

"  'Tis  always  sunrise  somewhere  in  the  world,"  was  the 
cheery  word  of  Richard  Henry  Home.  Out  of  the  roar 
and  rush  of  London,  its  smoke  and  fog,  and  once  more 
amid  the  sunny  fields  of  Middlesex  and  Berkshire,  you  are 
ready  to  accept  the  same  optimist  view  of  life.  Windsor 
Castle,  the  superb  chapel,  the  Long  Walk,  the  exquisite 
view  of  the  valley  of  the  Thames,  and  Eton  College  be- 
yond, can  never  be  forgotten.  "It  was  at  Eton  that 
Waterloo  was  won  !  "  once  said  the  Iron  Duke.  Founded 
before  America  was  known,  this  college  has  grown  to  be 
one  of  the  richest  in  the  world.  The  most  eminent  peers 
of  the  realm  were  trained  here,  besides  English  commoners 
of  equal  ability.  It  is  said  to  have  never  lost  its  monastic 
aspect.  In  early  days  the  students  were  roused  at  five  by 
the  loud  shout  Surgite  !  uttered  by  a  prepostor.  To  econ- 
omize time,  probably,  a  morning  prayer  was  ordered  to  be 
said  while  they  were  dressing  and  making  their  beds.  It 
would  seem  that  no  time  was  given  to  air  the  bedding. 
The  private  wash-up  was  followed  by  public  worship  at 
6  a.m.  A  prepostor  then  examined  the  face  of  each  and  his 
hands  to  see  if  they  were  clean.  After  this  preposterous 
performance,  studies  were  begun.  Friday  was  Hogging- 
day.  Stanton  says  that  this  form  of  mental  stimulus  is 
still  not  unf requently  applied  to  youthful  Etonians. 

BRISTOL    AND    MR.    MULLER. 

At  Bristol  I  visited  the  orphan  schools  of  that  beloved 
man  of  God,  Rev.  George  Muller.  The  physical  vitality 
and  mental  freshness  of  this  octogenarian  is  only  surpassed 
by  his  spiritual  vigor  and  productiveness.  With  him  and  his 
esteemed  wife  I  visited  the  five  orphan  houses,  tarrying  in 
one  long  enough  to  hear  a  brief  exercise  by  the  children. 
His  tall,  erect   form,  his  neat  attire,  with  a  conspicuous 


76  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

white  cravat,  and  above  all  his  luminous  piety,  make  the 
appositeness  of%Mr.  Beecher's  simile  very  striking,  "  One  of 
the  Lord's  wax  candles." 

Bristol  is  an  old  historic  center,  full  of  enticing  interest. 
Here  Avere  born,  or  resided,  Sebastian  Cabot,  Oliver  Crom- 
well, Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  Sir  Edmund  Burke,  Hallam, 
Hume,  Robert  Hall,  John  Foster,  Bishop  Butler,  John 
Harris,  Canon  Kingsley,  Cottle,  Coleridge,  Southey,  Han- 
nah More,  Jane  Porter,  Eugenia,  afterwards  Empress,  and 
others  of  less  note,  but  still  eminent  in  literature  or  in 
political  life.  I  visited  the  birthplace  of  Chatterton.  It 
is  believed  that  Gray  deserves  the  credit  of  discovering  the 
literary  forgeries  of  Chatterton,  detecting  in  these  pseudo- 
productions  of  old  times  the  modern  word  its.  This  "  sleep- 
less soul  that  perished  in  his  pride,"  as  Wordsworth  puts  it, 
presents  a  tragic  picture  of  a  brilliant  but  lawless  genius, 
preferring  suicide  at  seventeen  to  a  life  of  mortified  ambi- 
tion. 

I  sj)ent  a  month  during  the  summer  of  1886  on  Clifton 
Downs,  opposite  the  bridge  over  the  Avon.  Excursions 
in  the  Leigh  woods,  down  the  river,  to  Pennpole  cliff, 
Shirehampton,  Avonmouth;  to  Cheptow  Castle,  along  the 
winding  Wye,  Windcliff,  Tintern  Abbey,  and  a  day  in  the 
Forest  of  Dean,  22,000  acres,  where  Goodrich  Castle  and 
Symond's  Yat,  or  cliff,  attract  the  lovers  of  the  picturesque, 
the  geologist  and  antiquary  as  well,  there  would  require 
a  volume  fully  to  rehearse. 

The  wonderful  Cheddar  Cliffs  and  caves,  18  miles 
from  Bristol  ;  Keynsham,  Stapleton  Glen,  and  Dundry's 
lofty  church  tower,  900  feet  above  the  Severn, — Bath,  the 
old  Roman  city  with  its  lovely  Abbey,  its  exhumed  baths, 
park,  gardens,  and  cliff  ;  rambles  through  "  leafy  War- 
wickshire," near  Kenilworth;  Hereford,  Monmouth,  Wor- 
cester, with  castles,  churches,  and  cathedrals,  each  invite 
detailed  description,  but  I  turn  to  a  district  which  is  called 
"  a  pocket  edition  of  England,"  and  a  bright  epitome  of 
all  her  beauties,  namely, 


ENGLAND  AND  WALES.  V7 

THE    ISLE    OE    WIGHT. 

Crossing  at  Spithead  I  rode  on  the  top  of  a  stage-coach 
from  Hyde  to  Newport,  seven  miles,  and  the  following 
morning  nine  miles  further,  in  a  low,  light,  easy  vehicle 
called  a  "  fly."  Stopping  at  Carisbrook  Castle,  the  warder 
answered  the  bell  and  took  me  through  this  historic  ruin, 
to  the  room  where  Princess  Elizabeth  died,  to  the  window 
through  which  corpulent  Charles  vainly  tried  to  squeeze, 
and  to  the  castle  well,  which  the  guide  made  to  be  240  feet 
deep,  enlarging  its  dimensions,  perhaps,  to  suit  the  Ameri- 
can taste  for  exaggeration. 

On  we  drove  through  villages  and  quiet  lanes,  shaded 
with  groves  of  nut  ;  by  velvet  lawns  and  romantic  hollows, 
odorous  with  the  breath  of  that  cloudless  midsummer's 
morning.  Leigh  Richmond's  tract  "Dairyman's  Daugh- 
ter," lay  on  my  knees,  and  as  my  juvenile  driver  did  not 
disturb  the  restful  silence,  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  en- 
joy the  scene  and  verify  the  description.  There  were  the 
"lofty  hills  with  navy  signal  posts,  obelisks  and  light- 
houses on  their  summits,"  and  across  "  the  rich  cornfields, 
the  sea  with  ships  at  various  distances."  From  Thursday 
till  Monday  I  was  the  guest  of  Mr.  C,  at  Freshwater  Bay, 
whose  elegant  manor  house  wras  situated  in  a  park  of  700 
acres  by  the  banks  of  the  Yar,  near  the  Needles,  Alum  Bay, 
Yarmouth,  and  not  far  from  Farringford,  awhile  the  resi- 
denec  of  the  poet  laureate.  Day  after  day,  excursions  Avere 
made  on  foot  or  by  boat  or  by  carriage  to  interesting  locali- 
ties, and  when  the  Sabbath  came  it  was  a  rare  pleasure  to  re- 
alize what  eveiy  tourist  should  aim  to  enjoy,  at  least  once,  a 
Sunday  in  the  rural  districts  of  England.  No  one  had  given 
me  so  vivid  a  picture  of  it  as  Irving  in  the  "  Sketch  Book."* 

*  "  It  is  a  pleasing  sight  of  a  Sunday  morning,  when  the  bell  is 
sending  its  sober  melody  across  the  quiet  fields,  to  behold  the  peas- 
antry in  their  best  finery,  -with  ruddy  faces  and  modest  cheerfulness, 
thronging  tranquilly  along  the  green  lanes  to  church,"  and  at  even- 
ing "  about  their  cottage  doors,  appearing  to  exult  in  the  humble 
comforts  which  their  own  hands  have  spread  around  them." 


78  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

How  cool  and  sweet  the  air,  as  we  pass  under  the  oak 
and  ilex  by  the  roadside,  through  the  wicket  gate  and 
strawberry  sprinkled  patch  into  the  vestibule  whose  gray 
arches  were  chiseled  seven  centuries  ago  !  Sit  here  by  the 
open  window  through  which  conies  the  odor  of  new-mown 
hay,  while  the  gush  of  organ  music  rises,  swells,  and  dies 
away  in  distant  aisle,  cloister,  and  chapel.  See  that  aged 
clerk  who  rises  with  the  rector  to  lead  our  responses.  His 
hair  is  white  with  nearly  eighty  winters.  He  soon  will  lift 
his  Nunc  Dimittis  and  leave  his  bodily  sanctuary  as  silent 
as  this  will  be  in  an  hour.  Those  children  before  him,  with 
daffodils  and  daisies  in  their  hands,  are  June  close  by  De- 
cember. Their  voices  blend  sweetly  with  his  in  song,  as 
flute  with  reed.  The  preacher  tells  us  of  the  loving 
Saviour  healing  the  demoniac  daughter.  Now  he  bids  us 
tarry  to  celebrate  the  Memorial  Supper.  "  Take  and  eat 
this,  in  remembrance  that  Christ  died '  for  thee,  and  feed 
on  him  in  thy  heart  by  faith  and  with  thanksgiving." 
Surely  it  is  good  to  be  here.  "  How  amiable  are  thy  taber- 
nacles, O  Lord  of  hosts  !  A  day  in  thy  courts  is  better 
than  a  thousand."  Delightful,  too,  are  the  memories  of 
that  happy  home  where  culture  and  wealth  are  sanctified 
by  religion,  and  where  Sunday  to  all  the  children  and  ser- 
vants was  "the  queen  of  the  week."  After  the  second 
church  service,  3  p.m.,  books  and  pictures,  song  and  prayer, 
quiet  strolls  through  the  groves  and  gardens,  with  profit- 
able converse  by  the  way,  made  the  daylight  speed.  Then 
before  evening  prayers  were  had  in  the  drawing-room, 
"capping  verses"  from  the  Bible,  and  matching  words  to 
the  same,  proved  a  lively  exercise.  "  A  "  being  given  out, 
each  person  must  instantly  repeat  from  memory  a  verse  be- 
ginning with  that  letter.  Or  the  word  "  House  "  being  se- 
lected by  one  of  the  circle,  the  rest  must  recite  from  mem- 
ory some  verse  that  contains  it. 

The  delicious  repose  of  that  August  Sunday  was  a  fit 
prelude  to  the  busy,  brilliant  scenes  amid  which  I  was  to 
mingle  at  Paris,  for  which  place  the  next  morning  saw  me 


TtiANCM  AND  BELGIUM.  79 

started,  leaving  Southampton  with  a  crowd  of  passengers 
bound  for  the  Continent.  The  weather  was  charming 
and  all  seemed  bright  and  jubilant. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

France  and  Belgium, 
walks  about  parts. 

We  speak  of  London  the  busy,  Paris  the  beautiful. 
London  is  the  world's  workshop,  Paris  the  world's  drawing- 
room.  The  loveliness  of  her  situation,  the  wealth  of  her 
people,  and  the  glory  of  her  history  have  alike  dazzled  and 
bewitched  men.  No  people,  according  to  De  Tocqueville, 
-were  ever  "so  fertile  in  contrasts,  more  under  the  domin- 
ion of  feeling,  and  less  ruled  by  principle  ;  unchangeable  in 
leading  features,  yet  so  fickle  in  its  daily  opinions  that  at 
last  it  becomes  a  mystery  to  itself;  qualified  for  every  pur- 
suit, but  excellent  in  nothing  but  war  ;  endowed  with  more 
genius  than  common-sense,  more  heroism  than  virtue." 
The  truth  of  this  discriminating  survey  of  the  character  of 
his  countrymen  by  this  eminent  French  philosopher  is  cor- 
roborated by  intelligent  foreigners  who  have  long  lived 
here,  like  Tuckerman,  who  says  that,  in  its  last  analysis, 
life  is  delusive  ;  appearance  takes  the  place  of  reality,  and 
volubility  that  of  service.  Evanescence  is  the  law  of  hap- 
piness ;  civilization  is  materialistic  ;  life  is  filled  with  vain 
diversions,  and  in  its  impulsive,  sensuous  flow,  becomes  a 
continuous  melodrama,  the  spiritual  element  wanting  and 
the  deepest  wants  unsatisfied. 

By  the  single  word  "  Frenchified,"  men,  in  colloquial 
style,  have  described  that  which  is  showy  and  artificial, 
empty  and  puerile.  The  painted  wreaths  sold  at  the  gates 
of  cemeteries,  the.  powdered  hair,  enameled  cheeks,  and 
other  absurdities  illustrate  this  fact  of  shallowness  of  life 


SO  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

and  thought.  But  a  better  day  has  dawned.  Nobler  ideas 
are  taking  root  in  France.  The  lessons  of  the  last  decade 
are  not  forgotten.  Good  men  and  true  are  making  them- 
selves felt  in  private  and  public  posts  of  influence,  and  the 
truths  of  Protestant  Christianity  are  developing  a  purer, 
more  virile  life.  Visits  to  the  McAll  mission  stations  cer- 
tified to  this  fact. 

FRENCH    CHARACTER. 

French  character  is  still  a  riddle.  Hazlitt  thinks  that  he 
solves  it  when  he  says,  "  There  is  mobility  without  mo- 
mentum. The  face  is  commonly  too  light  and  variable  for 
repose  ;  restless,  rapid,  extravagant,  without  depth  or 
force."  Admitting  that  the  French  are  superior  to  the 
English  in  delicacy  and  refinement,  he  thinks  that  the  for- 
mer are  frivolous  and  shallow.  Their  Pere  la  Chaise  is  a 
sort  of  baby-house,  with  idle  ornaments  and  mimic  finery  ; 
full  of  effeminate  and  theatric  extravagances,  such  as  befit 
a  masquerade  ;  a  pleasure  resort  where  "death  seems  life's 
playfellow,  and  grief  and  smiling  content  sit  at  one  tomb 
together."  But  he  admits  that  he  changes  his  opinions 
"  fifty  times  a  day,"  because  at  every  step  he  would  form 
a  theory  of  French  character  which  at  the  next  step  is  con- 
tradicted. ' 

Le  Compte  says  it  is  the  fault  of  the  French  that  "  they 
are  too  serious."  Gravity  and  levity  are  queerly  mingled. 
They  are  sometimes  gay  in  serious  matters  and  grave  in 
trifles,  as  has  been  noticed  when  under  the  spell  of  some 
dramatic  representation,  but  the  jump  is  sudden  to  the  other 
extreme. 

The  French  are  fond  of  perfumes,  but  often  insensible  to 
ill  odors.  They  deal  in  scents,  and  have  fifty  sorts  of 
snuffs,  but  "  hang  over  a  dung-hill  as  if  it  were  a  bed  of 
roses,  or  swallow  the  most  detestable  dishes  with  the  great- 
est relish."  French  life  and  English  life  are,  hoAvever, 
developed  under  different  conditions,  both  in  city  and 
country. 


FRANCE  AND  BELGIUM.  81 

INDOOR    AND    OUTDOOR. 

An  English  writer  says  that  at  home  everything  is  made 
domestic  and  commodious,  but  daily  vocations  are  carried 
on  indoors.  Life  is  framed  and  set  in  comforts,  hut  is 
wanting  in  the  vivid  coloring  and  glowing  expression  of 
outdoor  activity  as  on  the  Continent.  In  France,  "life 
glows  or  spins  carelessly  around  on  its  soft  axle.  The 
same  animal  spirits  that  supply  a  fund  of  cheerful  thoughts 
break  out  into  all  the  extravagances  of  mirth  and  social 
glee.  The  air  is  a  cordial  to  them,  and  they  drink  drams 
of  sunshine.  You  see  the  women,  with  their  red  petticoats 
and  bare  feet,  washing  clothes  in  the  river  instead  of  stand- 
ing over  a  wash-tub  ;  a  girl  sitting  in  the  sun  ;  a  soldier 
reading  ;  a  group  of  old  women  chatting  in  a  corner,  and 
laughing  till  their  sides  are  ready  to  split ;  or  a  string  of 
children  tugging  a  fishing-boat  out  of  the  harbor  as  the 
evening  sun  goes  down,  and  making  the  air  ring  with  their 
songs." 

CHANGES    IN   PARIS. 

During  the  Crimean  War,  I  found  Paris  a  lively,  stirring 
center.  The  Rue  de  Rivoli  had  just  been  finished,  and 
activity  in  building  everywhere  was  seen.  I  saw  the 
Emperor  walking  in  the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  in  the 
garb  of  a  citizen.  Standing  in  18*79  on  the  same  spot, 
amid  the  ruins  of  that  palace,  and  recalling  the  sad  fortunes 
of  that  royal  household,  and  of  Paris,  I  could  not  repress 
the  feeling  of  melancholy.  The  cloudy  sky  and  the  chilly 
air,  which  made  an  overcoat  desirable  ;  the  withered  leaves 
that  had  prematurely  fallen,  and  were  blown  about  as  in  late 
autumn,  and  the  deserted  look  of  that  usually  brilliant 
resort  deepened  this  feeling.  Noticing  the  workmen  who 
were  changing  the  inscription  on  the  frieze  of  the  Chamber 
of  Deputies,  I  remarked  to  a  citizen  that  I  had  noticed, 
painted  on  the  Notre  Dame,  "  Liberte,  Egalite,  Fraternite." 
With  mingled  despondency  and  sarcasm  he  replied,  "  Yes, 
they  may  change  these  every  ten  years,"  and  then  went  on, 


82  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

in  a  different  tone,  to  say  that  he  believed  that  the  bulk  of 
his  people  preferred  the  Republic  to  a  Monarchy.  "Uem- 
pire,  c'est  la  paix"  has  no  longer  the  charm  which  such  a 
phrase  once  had,  and  the  hope  of  the  imperialists,  "the 
peasantry  will  not  desert  us,"  has  also  gone. 

Police  surveillance  in  1855  was  strict.  I  was  told  that 
my  books  and  papers  one  day  had  been  examined  in  my 
absence,  as  was  customary  on  the  arrival  of  foreigners. 
But  on  my  next  visit  the  concierge  simply  required  my 
signature  to  a  blank,  without  filling  up  with  statements, 
age,  nationality,  profession,  object  of  visit,  and  last  place 
of  sojourn.  It  was,  he  said,  mainly  for  Frenchmen,  not 
for  foreigners.  More  than  once,  on  the  Continent,  the 
simple  word  "  American,"  quietly  spoken,  has  secured  from 
various  officials  a  courtesy  and  respect  which  they  did  not 
■  seem  to  show  to  their  own  people.  In  this  connection  the 
shrewdness  of  French  thieves  may  be  noticed,  as  for  exam- 
ple, in  a  car,  the  use  of  false  hands  which  lie  on  the  knees, 
while  real  hands  are  in  your  pockets.  It  is  mortifying  to 
add  that  a  robbery  requiring  special  cleverness  is  called 
"  Tin  vol  d  V Americaine"  and  that  there  is  a  gambling 
game  known  simply  as  "  Boston." 

The  first  day  after  my  arrival  I  accepted  an  invitation  to 
dine  with  a  reputed  American  millionaire  on  Rue  de  la 
Paix.  The  occasion  was  a  novelty  and  delight.  We  were 
surrounded  by  the  display  of  princely  wealth.  Furniture  and 
embellishments  were  after  the  most  pretentious  style,  and 
servants  were  in  the  most  costly  livery.  After  an  imposing 
feast  of  ten  courses  had  been  served,  our  thoughts  turned  to 
our  native  land,  and  we  joined  in  the  old-time  melodies  of 
"  Carmina  Sacra  "  and  "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  Then  the 
horses  were  ordered,  a  drive  was  enjoyed  through  the 
principal  boulevards  and  around  Bois  de  Boulogne. 

Everybody  knows  that  Paris  in  the  glare  of  gaslight, 
with  its  population  out  of  doors,  is  more  brilliant  than  by 
day.  The  fountains  sparkle  ;  the  trees  of  the  Elysian 
Fields  are   lighted  with   Chinese  lanterns  ;  the  orchestra 


FRANCE  AND  BELGIUM.  83 

strikes  up  ;  the  dancing  girls  appeal',  and  the  bibulous 
multitude  sit  around  the  pavilion  at  little  tables  and  drink 
and  smoke.  The  Lord's  Day  is  a  time  of  special  hilarity. 
I  attended  service  at  the  Madeleine.  A  verger  or  beadle, 
superbly  dressed,  carried  a  golden  staff  and  strutted  up  and 
down  the  central  aisle  as  pompously  as  the  man  in  London 
did  whom  Theodore  Hook  once  accosted  with — "  Excuse 
me,  sir  ;  allow  me  to  ask  if  you  are  anybody  in  particular  ?  " 
A  gendarme,  with  cockade  and  sword,  also  did  service,  and 
a  third  held  a  swab  wet  in  "  holy  "  water,  against  which 
the  smutty  fingers  of  the  beggar  and  the  white  kids  of  the 
aristocrat  alike  pressed.  The  bowings  of  priests,  the  gen- 
uflections, processions,  recessions,  chanting  and  burning  of 
incense  were  not  wholly  edifying,  so  I  crossed  Rue  Royal 
to  the  Protestant  Chapel  and  heard  an  excellent  sermon 
in  English.  "  Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above,"  was 
sung  to  old  "  Arlington  "  with  a  tender  sweetness  that  can 
never  be  forgotten.  A  visit  to  the  Exhibition  of  1855,  to 
the  Louvre,  Hotel  Dieu,  the  Morgue,  Pere  la  Chaise,  Palace 
of  the  Luxembourg  and  the  Bourse  need  no  detailed  descrip- 
tion. The  names  of  the  streets  often  record  their  history. 
Rue  des  Martyrs  was  trodden  by  saintly  men  who  sealed 
their  faith  in  blood  on  Montmartre,  and  Rue  Pierre  Levee, 
"  street  of  the  raised  stone,"  tells  the  location  of  the  altars 
of  Druidic  sacrifice.  So  as  you  walk  on  you  think  of  St. 
Bartholomew,  the  Revolution,  the  Commune,  and  other 
baptisms  of  blood.  You  forget  the  gayety  of  the  present 
in  the  tragedies  of  the  past. 

The  river  bath-houses  are  worth  visiting.  From  eight  sous 
upward  I  found  a  room,  tub  and  water,  but  neither  towel 
nor  soap.  These  are  extras.  Some  one  tells  of  wine  baths, 
in  which  a  lover  of  the  beverage  may  sit  and  sip  and  swim  at 
pleasure.  After  his  ablution  is  finished  the  ruby  tide  is  drawn 
off  into  the  next  room,  and  No.  2  has  his  fill  at  a  lower  fig- 
ure. Perhaps  No.  3  may  find,  as  he  tastes,  that  the  wine  has 
considerable  "  body  "  to  it.  Having  washed  a  score  of  dirty 
fellows  it  is  bottled,  on  dit,  for  exportation  to  New  York  ! 


84  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

Versailles  gave  me  a  pleasant  idea  of  the  environs. 
The  railway  carriage  had  two  stories,  and  so  an  unob- 
structed view  was  had  of  the  valley  of  the  Seine,  with  its 
charming  chateaux,  vineyards  and  flower  gardens.  This 
ride,  like  other  trips  from  Havre,  Dieppe,  Rouen,  and  also 
in  the  south  of  France,  furnished  swift  yet  suggestive  pic- 
tures of  rural  life  in  different  districts.  The  substantial 
railroads,  grand  viaducts  and  bridges  everywhere  present  a 
contrast  to  many  seen  in  America. 

To  tell  of  the  Palace  of  Versailles,  its  paintings,  its 
statues,  its  gardens  and  parks,  and  the  associations  awak- 
ened in  the  mind  of  a  historic  dreamer,  language  fails. 
Sevres,  St.  Cloud,  and  Fontainebleau  are  full  of  interest, 
yet  you  may  spend  months  in  Paris,  visiting  her  libra- 
ries, studios,  churches,  galleries,  political,  literary  and 
religious     centers,    and     only     imperfectly     explore    her 

treasures. 

One  should,  of  course,  be  able  to  speak  French  to  fully 
pi'ofit  by  a  visit  long  or  short.  One  poor  fellow  of  inquisi- 
tive mind,  knowing  only  English,  wandered  about  Paris 
one  day  asking  questions  of  all  sorts,  only  to  receive  the 
uniform  shrug  and  "  Jene  sais pas."  As  the  day  waned,  a 
funeral  passed  and  the  prying  quidnunc  stopped  a  stranger 
with  the  question,  "  Who's  dead  ?  "  "  Je  ne  sais  pas."  "  Is 
he  really  ?  Good  !  He  has  troubled  me  all  day  ;  I'm  glad 
he's  gone  !  " 

ON   TO    BRUSSELS. 

Going  from  Paris  to  Brussels,  I  noted  St.  Denis,  the 
burial-place  of  French  kings  ;  Amiens,  where  the  treaty  of 
1802  was  concluded  between  England  and  France  ;  Valen- 
ciennes, on  the  Scheldt  and  Quievrain,  where  customs  are 
collected  ;  Mons,  strongly  fortified,  and  Braine  le  Compte, 
built  by  Brennus  in  Caesar's  day.  The  Belgic  capital  is 
called  a  miniature  Paris,  and  my  first  impressions  were  very 
favorable,  although  I  was  much  mortified  in  entering  a 
French  hotel,  and  putting  in  French  the  usual  queries  about 
accommodation,  to  be  answered  in  good  English  !     I  was 


FRANCE  AND  BELGIUM.  85 

well  housed  and  cared  for,  nor  did  the  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond, with  "  sound  of  revelry  by  night,"  disturb  our 
slumbers,  as  on  the  eve  of  Waterloo,  when  "  all  went  merry 
as  a  marriage  bell,"  and  joy  was  unconfined. 

"  The  midnight  brought  the  signal  sound  of  strife, 
The  morn  the  marshaling  in  arms — the  day, 
Battle's  magnificently  stern  array  ! 
The  thunder-clouds  close  o'er  it  .  .  . 
Rider  and  horse,  friend,  foe — in  one  red  burial  blent ! " 

The  visitor  to-day  in  Brussels  will  find,  as  in  Paris,  the 
old  quarters  and  the  new  ;  the  palace  of  the  king  and  park  ; 
breezy  boulevards  and  gay  cafes  ;  museums  and  theaters, 
and  its  bloody  memories  of  revolutions  with  which  Motley 
makes  us  familiar.  The  spire  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  370  feet 
high,  commands  a  view  of  the  field  of  Waterloo.  Its  ban- 
queting hall  and  gallery  of  pictures  should  not  be  missed. 
The  lace  and  carpet  factories  are  not  devoid  of  interest. 
Pictures  of  the  Flemish  school  abound,  naturalistic  rather 
than  ideal,  meritorious  in  some  technicalities  of  art  rather 
than  in  intellectual  or  profoundly  spiritual  characteristics. 
Passing  though  Mechlin,  you  think  of  her  thread-lace,  and 
damask,  and  at  Louvain  of  the  great  university,  attended 
once  by  6000  students.  Jansenius,  the  Augustinian  reformer, 
was  professor  there  in  1630.  Liege  is  the  Birmingham  of 
Belgium.  Its  old  palace  is  the  scene  of  "  Quentin  Durwand" 
by  Scott,  and  full  of  attractiveness  to  the  antiquary.  The 
influence  of  the  rich,  proud  merchants  of  the  middle  ages 
was  seen  in  art  as  well  as  in  commerce,  as  the  costly  hotels 
de  ville  testify.  So  in  the  matter  of  attire.  Velvet  coats, 
trimmed  with  gold  and  rare  furs,  were  worn  by  the  haughty 
Hansards.  A  deputation  once  waited  on  Charles  V.  They 
took  off  their  rich  robes  to  sit  on,  as  the  benches  were  wood. 
When  they  turned  to  go  out,  a  valet  reminded  them  that 
they  had  left  their  outer  garments  on  the  seat.  "  We  are 
not  wont  to  carry  away  our  cushions  with  us  !  "  was  the 
scornful  response.    These  burghers  loved  literature,  too. 


86  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

Their   Chambers  of  Rhetoric   and  dramatic  moralization 
showed  the  taste  of  the  guild. 

ANTWERP. 

Antwerp  is  but  28  miles  from  Brussels.  The  pen  and 
pencil  of  Fairholt  had  long  ago  whetted  appetite  for  what 
is  here  to  be  enjoyed  in  art  and  historic  romance.  Many 
of  the  early  art-treasures  were  destroyed  in  the  days  of  the 
Duke  of  Alva  and  Philip  II.,  "  monsters  of  cold-hearted 
ferocity,"  as  Motley  calls  them.  The  history  of  the  town 
is  one  of  conflict  from  the  beginning.  Its  name,  Hand- 
werpen — "  to  cast  a  hand  " — records  the  tradition  of  the 
giant  Antigon,  who  cut  off  the  hand  of  every  mariner  who 
refused  tribute  as  he  entered  the  Scheldt.  One  of  Caesar's 
officers,  Brabant,  is  said  to  have  conquered  him  and  built 
the  city,  hence  the  Seignory  Brabant.  At  present  the  ma- 
terial prosperity  of  Antwerp  is  rapidly  increasing.  Its 
commerce  extends,  elegant  buildings  are  erected,  new 
boulevards  and  parks  opened,  and  the  American  street  cars 
are  running.  But  society  is  not  free  from  the  fetters  of 
ignorance  and  priestcraft.  The  enjoyment  of  the  works  of 
art  is  marred  by  seeing  them  made  "  ecclesiastical  peep- 
shows."  The  mellow  sweetness  of  the  Cathedral  bells 
can  not  make  us  forget  that  Castilian  butchers,  in  by-gone 
days,  were  slaying  thousands  of  citizens,  while  these  bells 
rang  on  merrily  as  ever,  and  others  suffered  a  longer  death 
under  the  tortures  of  the  Inquisition.  The  cells,  bolts,  and 
chains  of  the  dungeons  are  yet  shown,  and  the  holes  in  the 
arched  roof  through  which  the  voice  of  the  tortured  reached 
the  scribe  above,  who  recorded  what  had  been  wrung  from 
the  martyr.  You  also  see  the  aperture  in  the  stony 
floor  through  which  the  dying  or  dead  were  thrown 
into  a  deep  pit  beneath  the  prisons.  At  Bruges,  the 
bloody  banner  of  the  Inquisition  is  preserved,  crimson 
in  color,  as  is  meet,  and  edged  with  gold  fringe.  The 
forms  of  Jesus  and  his  Mother,  and  angels,  are  repre- 
sented on   the  faded  satin,   a  ghastly  satire,  when  the 


FRANCE  AND  BELGIUM.  87 

diabolical  scenes  are  recalled  in  connection  with  which  this 
was  used. 

THE    HOME    OP    RUBERS. 

The  name  of  Rubens  gives  a  glory  to  this  Belgian  city 
which  the  people  are  not  slow  to  acknowledge.  His  sump- 
tuous mansion  was  erected  after  his  marriage  in  1609,  at  a 
cost  of  60,000  florins.  His  studio,  like  the  rotunda  of  the 
Pantheon,  had  a  single  light  in  the  dome  that  set  off  with 
peculiar  effect  his  marbles,  intaglios  and  antique  curiosities. 
The  chair  he  used  is  now  kept  in  the  picture-gallery,  and 
bears  the  date  1623.  He  died  in  1640.  His  "  Descent  from 
the  Cross  "  is  a  masterpiece  of  art,  before  which  the  greatest 
painters  have  stood  with  wondering  admiration.  What 
Titian's  art  was  to  Venice,  or  Michael  Angelo's  to  Rome, 
Rubens'  work  is  to  Antwerp.  His  princely,  prodigal 
genius,  so  exuberant,  joyous,  and  thoroughly  human,  has 
chai'med  the  lovers  of  material  beauty  and  brilliant  realistic 
art.  His  pictures  are  an  emphatic  outflow,  of  himself,  as 
Jarves  has  said,  full  of  intense  life,  vehement  movement 
and  amorous  ardor,  "  poured  on  his  canvas  as  if  from  a  con- 
jurer's inexhaustible  bottle.  He  is  jovial,  sensuous,  hand- 
some, magnificent,  a  zealous  Catholic  with  liberal  instincts, 
and  despising  asceticism."  That  Antwerp  should  devote 
$90,000  and  ten  days  to  the  commemoration  of  Rubens's 
birth  is  proof  of  something  more  than  mere  sentimentality. 
'When  the  fine  arts  are  better  appreciated  in  America,  there 
will  be  founded  institutions  for  art  culture,  and  galleries  for 
the  exhibition  of  those  artistic  productions  which  are  a 
credit  to  the  higher  instincts  of  any  people.  Real  art- 
education,  it  is  said,  did  not  begin  in  England  till  1851. 
America  does  well  to  care  first  for  "  the  coarse  arts,"  to  use 
Theodore  Parker's  phrase — as  the  ancient  Etruscan  first 
sought  good  air,  water,  drainage,  and  crops.  The  mind  and 
soul  are,  however,  more  than  the  body,  and  spiritual  ideas 
more  than  mere  animal  satisfaction. 

Next  to  Titian  stands  Vandyke,  the  pupil  of  Rubens. 
Says   Allan   Cunningham,    "No  one  has  equaled   him  in 


S8  OUT-BOOB  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

manly  dignity.  His  portraits  are  likely  to  remain  the 
wonder  of  all  nations."  David  Teniers,  another  pupil,  and 
his  son,  of  the  same  name,  were  also  natives  of  Antwerp. 
In  one  painting  by  the  younger  Teniers  are  1138  figures. 
One  can  spend  many  days  in  the  Museum,  churches  and 
cathedral  studying  art,  or  perhaps  with  more  profit  in  the 
busy  streets,  studying  real  life  at  the  market-place,  where 
bright,  clean,  ruddy  Flemish  women  gather  with  all  sorts  of 
ware  ;  where  butcher,  drayman,  baker  and  milkmaid  meet; 
along  the  docks,  and  down  the  Scheldt,  where  ships  of  all 
nations  float ;  in  the  Zoological  Gardens,  unsurpassed  on  the 
Continent,  and  among  the  silk  weavers.  Yet  most  of  tourists, 
like  myself,  have  tarried  but  a  day,  which  is  better  than  to 
omit  it.  The  melody  of  those  bells  is  itself  an  inspiration. 
"<£ri*eat  Carolus"  weighs  16,000  pounds,  nearly  as  much  as 
Great  Tom  of  Oxford.  Sixteen  stalwart  men  are  required 
to  ring  it.  There  are  98  brazen  companions  of  varying  sizes, 
a  sweet  carillon,  that  for  350  years,  from  dawn  to  dark,  has 
pealed  forth  mellow  music,  high,  airy  and  melodious,  above 
the  discords  of  the  street. 

"Through  the  balmy  air  of  night 
How  they  ring  out  their  delight! 
Then  from  out  their  sounding  shells 
What  a  gush  of  euphony  voluminously  swells  I" 

Once  heard,  they  haunt  the  imagination  forever. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Holland  and  Germany, 
rotterdam. 

"  That  is  Holland  !  Don't  you  see  that  spire  ?  "  I  rubbed 
my  eyes,  but  gave  it  up.  Soon  out  of  the  sea  there  rose  a 
faint  line,  like  a  low  cloud,  and  then  sandbanks  and  wind- 
mills appeared.  Ten  hours  from  Harwich.  It  was  a  pleas- 
ant morning,  that  29th  of  July,  1879.     The  Custom  House 


HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY.  89 

officer  reminded  us  of  our  "  duties  "  in  a  tongue  which  I 
could  not  understand.  I  simply  opened  my  satchel,  and,  to 
what  seemed  an  inquiry,  ventured  an  English.  "  No."  "  Sut 
it  up,"  said  Blue  Coat,  as  he  pasted  the  words  "  Gezien  ; 
gren  regten  betaald  "  on  the  outside — "  Seen;  no  duty  paid." 
At  9  a.m.  we  reached  Rotterdam. 

Leaving  luggage  at  the  station,  I  made  a  beginning  of  the 
day's  perambulations  by  going  to  the  Groote  Markt  and 
the  "  House  of  the  Thousand  Terrors."  Declining  the  aid 
of  guides,  who  knew  English  no  better  than  I  knew  Dutch, 
by  simply  repeating  the  word  "Erasmus,"  with  upward 
inflection,  and  pointing  onward — watching  at  the  same  time 
the  answering  hand — I  soon  came  to  the  bronze  statue  of  the 
great  theologian,  opposite  which  was  the  first  of  Rotter- 
dam's historical  relics  sought  by  me — a  quaint  old  corner 
house,  built  centuries  ago. 

HOUSE  OF  THE  THOUSAND  TERRORS. 

When  Spanish  murderers  deluged  the  town  with  blood 
in  1572,  several  hundreds  took  refuge  in  this  building. 
Having  closed  the  heavy  window-shutters  and  barricaded 
the  door,  they  killed  a  kid  and  let  the  crimson  stream  flow 
out  over  the  threshold.  Seeing  the  blood,  the  red-handed 
marauders  concluded  that  the  work  of  butchery  had  been 
finished,  and  passed  by  the  place.  I  entered,  and  found 
that  the  ground  floor  was  occupied  as  a  haberdasher's  shop. 
Outside,  in  the  square,  the  hucksters  made  a  tempting  display 
of  strawberries  and  raspberries,  which  they  sold  for  a  few 
pennies  per  quart.  They  found  me  a  ready  purchaser,  for 
the  quality  of  the  fruit  was  excellent. 

DUTCH  CUSTOMS. 

Do  you  see  that  melancholy  man,  in  sable  habiliments 
and  black  cocked  hat  ?  He  is  the  ghostly  messenger  of 
death — "  Annsprecker,"  undertaker's  man — carrying  funeral 
announcements  to  friends  and  kinsmen.  In  some  towns, 
silk-covered  cushions  in  the  windows  tell  of  birth.     If  red 


90  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

lace  or  paper  is  displayed,  a  boy  has  arrived  ;  if  white,  a 
girl.  Immunities  from  civil  suits  are  granted  for  some 
days,  and  also  special  quiet  secured  for  the  mother.  Bul- 
letins are  posted  daily  in  the  window  where  there  is  sick- 
ness, informing  friends  of  the  condition  of  the  sufferer. 

Dutch  dress  is  droll,  particularly  the  huge  wooden  shoes 
worn  by  man  and  maid — "  ferry-boats  "  rather  than  fairy 
boots — and,  what  is  stranger  still,  gilded  shells  or  helmets 
fitted  to  female  skulls,  with  small  wires  twisted  into  a  horn 
or  conical  rat-trap  shape,  pushing  out  from  under  the 
whitest  and  stiffest  of  lace  caps.  A  basket  of  flowers  is 
sometimes  fixed  to  the  top  of  the  hair.  Nothing  more 
quaint  and  odd  is  anywhere  to  be  seen  than  the  varied  head- 
gear of  the  women.  You  are  diverted,  too,  by  the  pictur- 
esque old  canals,  with  the  strange  vessels  and  barges,  with 
their  occupants.  What  studies  for  a  painter  !  The  sails 
have  perhaps  been  soaked  in  a  decoction  of  oak  bark,  as 
those  of  Hebridean  fishermen.  They  lie  in  puffy  heaps 
upon  the  deck.  A  huge  wing  or  paddle  is  fastened  on  either 
side.  A  woman  may  be  seen  holding  the  long  crooked 
rudder  top,  or  more  likely  dashing  her  soap  and  water  about 
the  deck  ;  for,  of  all  people,  the  Hollanders  do  most  love 
to  scrub  and  scour.  Street  and  pavement,  floor  and  window, 
pot  and  kettle,  face  and  hands  proclaim  the  fact.  Every- 
body knows  that  they  are  a  church-going  people  ;  but 
public  worshijD  is  not  more  esteemed  than  private  wash-up. 

If  you  wish  to  see  Dutch  cleanliness  run  mad,  saj' s  Fair- 
hold,  you  must  visit  Broeck,  four  miles  out  of  Amsterdam. 
You  walk  into  this  village,  for  horses  and  carriages  are  not 
allowed.  Even  Alexander  the  Emperor  was  obliged  to  take 
off  his  shoes  before  entering  a  house.  A  pile  of  wooden 
shoes  is  seen  at  doors.  They  cost  from  threepence  a  pair 
upward,  and  sometimes  are  lined  with  list.  A  patten  is 
often  secured  to  horses'  feet,  making  him  web-footed.  Both 
these  clumsy  appendages  are  needed  in  a  soft,  boggy  soil, 
which  in  some  places  sinks  six  inches  a  year — besides  sink- 
ing a  deal  of  money.     It  would  seem  hard  to  keep  up  cour- 


HOLLAND  AND   GERMANY.  91 

age  wnere  everything  sinks  excepting  taxes  ;  these  are  very- 
high.  The  ancient  coat  of  arms  of  the  province  of  Zealand  is 
a  lion  half  swallowed  in  the  sea,  with  the  motto,  "  Luctor  et 
emergo"  ("I  struggle  and  keep  above  water").  In  1825, 
Amsterdam  came  within  fifteen  minutes  of  being  over- 
whelmed. The  tides  conspired  with  the  Rhine  and  the 
Meuse,  and  the  great  dykes  were  all  but  covered.  As  it 
was,  it  took  two  year's  to  repair  the  damage.  The  houses 
of  Broeck  are  only  entered  by  the  back  door.  The  steps 
are  removed  from  the  front  door.  This  entrance  is  used  but 
at  births,  burials,  and  marriages.  "  Nothing  can  exceed 
the  brightness  of  the  paint,  the  polished  tiles  on  the  roof, 
or  the  perfect  freedom  from  dirt  exhibited  by  the  cottages. 
The  rage  for  keeping  all  tidy  even  tampers  with  the  dearest 
of  a  Dutchman's  treasures,  his  pipe,  for  it  is  stipulated 
that  he  wear  over  it  a  wire  network,  to  prevent  the  ashes 
from  falling  on  the  footpaths." 

Dutch  dairies  deserve  notice.  Holland  has  been  termed 
the  Paradise  of  Cows.  They  yield  more  milk,  richer  in 
quality  and  better  adapted  for  butter  and  cheese  making, 
than  almost  any  breed  in  the  world.  The  cattle  are  white 
and  black,  well  shaped,  trim,  shorter  horned  than  Durham, 
large  framed,  and  very  gentle.  Yet  in  milking  the  cow  the 
hind  legs  as  well  as  the  tail  are  tied,  for  they  are  some- 
what like  deponent  verbs  in  Latin,  passive  in  form  but  very 
active  in  nature. 

A  Dutch  market-place  is  both  bewildering  and  bewitch- 
ing, particularly  at  night,  when  the  blazing  flambeaux  and 
bawling  voices  are  suggestive  of  Bedlam.  Not  only  are 
fruits,  vegetables,  fish,  and  other  kinds  of  foods  for  sale,  but 
clothing,  books,  dry  goods,  hardware,  and  all  kinds  of  mer- 
chandise. Most  of  the  venders  can  say  "  Sixpence,"  or  some 
simple  English  word  indicative  of  price,  so  that,  with  the 
pantomime  to  aid,  the  purchase  is  easily  effected  if  you  wish 
to  buy. 

The  trams  were  new  and  elegant.  Unlike  the  American 
street  cars,  the  alarm  bell  was  fastened  to  the  car  instead 


92  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE, 

of  the  horse.  The  driver  pulled  it  when  turning  a  corner  or 
approaching  a  team.  The  seats  were  covered  with  red 
velvet  cushions,  and  three  large  fixed  glass  sashes  made  the 
sides.  Riding  out  into  the  suburbs  I  saw  the  residences  of 
the  wealthier  poeple,  with  parks  and  ponds  and  shady 
avenues.  Flowering  plants  adorned  the  windows,  and  the 
itinerant  musician,  as  at  home,  pursued  his  vocation  in  the 
streets  and  court-yards. 

From  the  boomjes  (boom-kis)  a  steamer  runs  up  ten 
miles  to 

THE    TOWN    OF  DORT. 

Dort  is  an  ancient  town  surrounded  by  windmills  and 
living  by  the  timber  trade.  Its  narrow  streets  and  antique 
houses  with  nodding  fronts  are  said  to  be  most  thoroughly 
representative  of  any  Dutch  city.  The  historic  memories  of 
the  great  Synod  in  1618  ;  of  the  Assemblies  of  the  States  of 
Holland  ;  a  view  of  the  spot  where,  under  a  linden  tree  that 
fronted  an  old  doelen  or  military  rendezvous,  the  reformers 
first  preached  in  1572  ;  and  a  visit  to  the  birth  places  of  Cuyp 
and  Ary  Scheffer,  will  repay  the  tourist  for  a  few  hours' 
delay.  I  regret  that  I  did  not  tarry,  but  utter  ignorance  of 
the  language,  as  well  as  a  long  itinerary  before  me,  pre- 
vented. This  little  island  of  Dort  is  Holland  proper — 
Holt-land  or  wooded  land — the  first  settlers  coming  here  in 
the  early  centuries  and  redeeming  the  district  from  the  sea. 
The  windmills  saw  wood,  grind  grain,  and  drain  the  country 
of  water  by  lifting  it  to  higher  conduits  which  empty 
the  superfluous  water  into  the  sea  when  the  tide  allows. 

It  is  a  marvel  where,  in  this  tame,  flat  and  monotonous 
region,  Cuyp  got  materials  and  inspiration  to  paint  his 
golden  sunsets,  his  gems  of  landscape  scenery  that  in  aerial 
perspective,  delicacy,  and  Venetian  warmth  of  color  have 
won  for  him  the  epithet  of  the  Dutch  Claude  Lorraine. 
His  moonlight  pictures  and  winter  scenes  are  wonderful 
and  entirely  after  nature,  mostly  in  and  about  Dort. 
Wholly  different  was  the  spiritual  genius  of  Ary  Scheffer, 
whose  Christus  Consolator,  Dante  and  Beatrice,  and  Faust 


HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY.  93 

are  widely  known  and  universally  admired.  Nor  could  I 
give  the  haunts  of  Rembrandt  about  Leyden  the  attention 
they  deserved.  The  history  of  this  miller's  boy  is  a  poem, 
from  the  hour  when  he  watched  the  stray  sunbeam  that 
pierced  the  roof  of  his  father's  mill,  and  learned  how  to 
mingle  somber  shade  and  vivid  sunlight.  Without  the  aus- 
tere severity  of  Ruysdael  he  puts  grandeur  as  well  as  grace 
into  his  compositions.  Nor  was  he  governed  by  moods  and 
caprice.  He  was  untiringly  industrious.  Fairholt  tells  of 
a  holiday  dinner  to  which  the  painter  was  invited.  After 
being  seated  at  the  table,  a  seiwant  was  sent  to  procure 
some  mustard  at  a  shop  not  far  away.  Rembrandt  wagered 
with  his  host,  a  burgomaster  of  Amsterdam,  that  he  would 
etch  the  view  from  the  window  before  the  servant  returned. 
He  did  it.  The  plate  was  sold  in  1844  for  about  ninety 
dollars,  and  is  known  as  the  "  mustard  pot." 

The  patience  as  well  as  industry  of  some  of  the  Hutch 
artists  is  illustrated  in  Gerard  Houw,  who  was  willing  to 
spend  three  days  in  painting  a  broom  that  stood  in  the 
corner  of  one  of  his  pictures. 

Let  no  one  miss  of  seeing  Helft,  with  its  relics  of  the 
Prince  of  Orange,  Haarlem  in  the  Arcadia,  and  Leyden 
with  its  memories  of  a  siege,  1574,  terrible  like  that  of 
Londonderry,  in  which  thousands  succumbed,  and  interest- 
ing as  the  resting-place  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  in  1609.  I 
had  a  ticket  from  Rotterdam  to  Amsterdam  through  these 
places,  but  owing  to  General  Ignorance — an  uncomfortable 
companion — I  got  on  a  train  at  Gonda  Junction  which 
took  me  by  Utrecht  instead.  Nowhere  in  Europe  did  Gen. 
I.  give  me  more  annoyance. 

The  Hague,  according  to  Lord  Chesterfield,  is  "  the 
most  delightful  city  in  Europe."  Seeing  this  gay  court 
city  under  the  most  fortunate  circumstances,  when  its 
palaces  and  Houses  of  Parliament,  its  churches  and  aristo- 
cratic mansions,  its  gardens,  parks  and  squares  were  bright 
with  sunshine,  when  the  balm}7  air  had  drawn  the  people 
into  the  streets,  and  when  the   watering  season  was  at  its 


94  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

height,  filling  Scheveningen  with  crowds  of  pleasure- 
seekers,  I  was  almost  ready  to  endorse  the  sentiment.  A 
ride  of  twenty  minutes  along  shady  avenues  of  oak  and 
lime  trees  brought  me  to  this  seaside  resort,  the  Brighton 
of  Holland,  where  William  III.  was  born  in  181V,  and  the 
point  from  which  Charles  II.  embarked  to  resume  the  sove- 
reignty of  England.  Twenty-four  hours  before,  I  was  stand- 
ing amid  the  afternoon  bathers  at  Brighton,  England. 
Only  four  hours  by  rail  to  Harwick  and  a  few  more  by 
steamer  to  Rotterdam  had  intervened.  The  appropriate- 
ness of  the  comparison  was  therefore  quite  apparent.  The 
view  of  the  ocean,  the  beach,  hotels,  and  visitors  in  either 
case  had  no  special  novelty,  and  so  my  stay  was  short. 

A   DUTCH   VENICE. 

Amsterdam  I  reached  before  tea,  and  rode  at  once  to  the 
Amstel  House,  one  of  the  most  spacious  and  elegant  hotels 
on  the  Continent.  I  chose  a  comfortable,  airy  room  in  the 
upper  story,  commanding  a  delightful  prospect  of  the  city, 
which  is  built  on  95  islands,  joined  by  290  bridges,  of  the 
river  Amstel  and  the  Zuyder  Zee.  A  full  moon  added  to 
the  beauty  of  the  outlook  at  night,  while  countless  gas 
lights  flashed  up  and  down  the  avenues  and  along  the 
quays  built  by  its  crescent  ba}r.  I  enjoyed  refreshing 
slumbers  in  these  princely  quarters,  and  was  not  disturbed 
by  noisy  gong  or  intrusive  servant,  or  by  the  street-watch- 
man, who 

"  Breaks  jour  rest  to  tell  you  what's  o'clock," 

and  rattles  a  hiige  clapper  of  wood,  perhaps  to  warn  away 
the  rogues.  For  my  room,  with  attendance  and  use  of  the 
library,  and  other  luxuries,  the  charge  was  but  seventy-fi\  e 
cents. 

Amsterdam  is  called  the  Dutch  Venice.     It  is  built  on 
piles  driven  into  bog  and  loose  sand  ;  for  the  Town  House 
foundations  13,000  were  used.     Erasmus  was  right  in  say 
ing  that  the  town  was  built  on  tree-tops.     Some  of  the 


HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY.  95 

buildings  seem  to  be  in  a  thoroughly  inebriated  condition, 
and  more  than  one  has  sunk  into  the  muddy  depths.  Solid- 
ity and  strength,  however,  characterize  the  old  structures 
along  the  Kalverstrasse.  The  ponderous  frame,  the  heavy 
staircase,  the  carved  door  and  paneled  room  are  made  to 
last  for  centuries.  The  gate  of  St.  Anthony  was  built  400 
years  ago,  and  marks  the  spot  where  the  ancient  scaffold 
stood. 

This  city  is  more  grotesque,  cheerful  and  lively  than 
Venice.  The  throb  of  a  busy  population  of  300,000,  its 
commercial  and  manufacturing  life,  its  excellent  educa- 
tional institutions,  its  schools  of  art,  and  its  conspicuous 
charities,  give  a  vitality  and  charm  to  Amsterdam  that  the 
silent  city  on  the  Adriatic  does  not  possess.  The  learned 
Jew  Spinoza  was  born  here.  He  was  at  first  regarded  an 
atheist,  and  was  banished  by  the  magistrates,  at  the  request 
of  his  countrymen.  There  are  now  about  20,000  resident 
Jews,  and  a.  visit  to  their  quarter  is  entertaining.  The 
galleries  of  paintings,  the  zoological  gardens,  the  tombs  of 
De  Ruyter  and  Rembrandt,  the  Palace,  with  its  icy  splen- 
dor and  grim  trophies  of  martial  glory,  the  museums  and 
Industrial  Palace  furnish  enough  materials  of  interest  to 
hold  the  stranger  for  weeks.  But  here,  as  everywhere  else, 
out-door  life  was  most  attractive  to  me. 

STREETS    OP    AMSTERDAM. 

On  my  first  ramble  about  the  city,  I  chanced  to  meet  a 
gentleman  who  spoke  English  and  German  as  well  as  Dutch, 
and  he  brought  me  to  the  money-changer's  office.  Having 
secured  the  small  coin  of  the  countiy,  I  took  my  chocolate 
at  an  Italian  cafe,  and  then,  note-book  in  hand,  began  my 
enjoyable  solitary  meanderings. 

At  one  place  I  sat  down  on  a  stone  step  by  one  of  the 
canals  to  rest,  to  write,  and  to  watch  the  teeming,  swarm- 
ing, ever-moving,  and  cheerful  crowds.  The  day's  work 
was  done,  and  the  laborer  and  artisan  were  homeward 
bound.     The  barges  dropped  silently  down  the  pea-green 


96  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

stream  towards  the  outer  dykes,  pushed  or  pulled  by- 
swarthy,  kindly-looking  boatmen  ;  clean  and  ruddy  dames 
with  spotless  caps  sat  in  the  doorway  at  this  sunset  hour  ; 
a  group  of  juvenile  Dutchmen  behind  me  made  the  air 
ring  with  their  untranslatable  ejaculations,  as  they  played 
their  game  of  ball  in  the  angle  of  antique  church  Avails, 
while  in  more  quiet  sport  younger  sisters  were  playing  with 
household  pets  by  the  carved  doorway  of  their  gabled, 
narrow-windowed,  red-brick  dwellings.  One  of  these  femi- 
nine Hollanders,  who  held  a  tiny  baby  that  was  neatly 
clad  and  had  a  white  knit  cap  on  its  head,  came  and  shared 
the  seat  with  me.  Soon  after,  two  or  three  more  little 
ones,  bright,  clean,  smiling,  came  nestling  up,  and  sat  like 
a  family  group  around  my  grandfatherly  knees.  Nobody 
spoke  a  word,  for,  strange  to  say,  nobody  could  command 
language  adequate  to  the  occasion.  To  complete  the  tab- 
leau, a  pretty  brown  spaniel,  who  seemed  to  act  as  escort 
and  guard  of  the  children,  approached  and  deliberately 
smelt  of  the  Yankee,  and  gave  his  vise  in  a  wag  of  the  tail 
and  a  pleasant  nod,  as  if  to  say  to  his  youthful  charge  : 
"  That  stranger  is  all  right ;  he  won't  hurt  you."  Relying 
on  the  accuracy  of  his  inspection,  these  little  Amsterdarno- 
nians  looked  trustfully  up  to  me,  with  their  eyes  all  full  of 
questions,  though  their  lips  were  still. 

INTERNATIONAL    COURTESIES. 

While  I  was  taking  a  lunch,  three  well-to-do  children, 
apparently  sisters,  came  to  the  same  small  table.  The  eld- 
est, about  13,  had  a  vial  of  perfumery,  from  which  in  turn 
she  poured  on  each  handkerchief.  These  Dutch  flowers 
needed  no  fragrance,  for  they  were  such  as  Rubens  or  the 
genial  Panl  Potter  might  have  selected  to  garnish  his  can- 
vas ;  but  they  evidently  enjoyed  the  saturation,  and  flung 
smiling  glances  at  me  in  swift  succession.  As  the  }roungest 
received  her  portion,  she  whispered  something  to  her  sister, 
who  instantly,  by  look  and  gesture,  gracefully  requested 
the  pleasure  of  extending  international  courtesies  to  one 


HOLLAND  AND   GERMANY.  97 

whom  she,  with  quick  instinct,  must  have  known  to  be  an 
American  abroad. 

These  are  trifling  but  very  pleasant  episodes,  fragrant 
memories  of  meetings  and  greetings,  where  the  loquaei 
manu  and  still  more  eloquent  eye  are  the  only  channels  of 
thought  and  emotion.  In  the  days  of  Augustus  the  panto- 
mime was  brought  to  its  greatest  perfection.  The  tell-tale 
hand  and  face  held  audiences  for  hours.  By  "  pictures  in 
the  air,"  among  the  eai'ly  Indians,  one  could  travel  from 
Hudson's  Bay  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  There  were  only 
six,  of  the  150  signs  used,  which  were  not  at  once  evident.* 
At  Venice,  when  the  gondolier  took  my  franc,  he  showed 
that  he  wanted  a  half  franc  more  by  simply  drawing  his 
hand  edgewise  through  the  scrip,  and  then  extending  an 
empty  hand,  while  he  held  what  he  had  received  in  the 
other. 

In  one  of  the  narrow  streets  of  Amsterdam  I  noticed 
that,  in  order  to  wash  the  upper  windows  in  a  very  high 
house,  a  fire-brigade  ladder,  jointed  to  the  height  of  50 
feet,  had  been  wheeled  up  to  the  building.  What  a  bless- 
ing it  would  be  if  the  Dutch  mania  for  cleanliness  could  be 
somehow  communicated  to  the  street  commissioners  of  New 
York  and  other  American  cities  ! 

Coffee,  I  noticed,  was  spelled  Koffie  ;  the  word  for  watch- 
maker, Horloguer  ;  and  exchange,  Beurs,  like  the  French 
Bourse.  Car  tickets  were  sold  at  a  discount  by  street  spec- 
ulators, as  in  other  lands  ;  and  many  other  customs  have 
been  imported  by  the  thousands  from  over  the  sea  who  are 
tramping  through  the  highways  and  by-ways  of  Conti- 
nental travel.  When  railway  officials  come  to  understand 
English  it  will  be  better  for  all  concerned.  Very  few  do. 
One  in  Rotterdam  told  me  that  he  was  living  in  Chicago  at 
the  time  of  the  gi'eat  fire.  He  was  of  great  service  to  me 
in  securing  luggage,  the  receipt  of  which  was  lost.  Be- 
tween Rotterdam  and  Antwerp  a  careless  conductor  tore 

*Tliwing's  "  Drill  Book  in  Vocal  Culture  and  Gesture." 


98  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

out  two  leaves  of  my  coupons  instead  of  one.  The  train 
was  in  rapid  motion.  He  was  climbing  along  the  outside 
from  carriage  to  carriage,  stepping  on  the  narrow  plank 
over  the  wheels,  and  thrusting  his  head  and  arms  through 
the  window  of  each  door,  an  awkward  and  dangerous  way 
of  collecting  fares.  It  was  nearly  dark,  and  though  I  saw 
his  blunder,  it  was  useless  to  protest  in  English  or  French. 
In  a  wink  away  he  went !  Of  course  another  ticket  must 
be  bought. 

FUGITIVE    GLANCES. 

From  Amsterdam  to  Cologne  is  a  distance  of  perhaps 
170  miles.  The  trip  is  made  between  noon  and  sunset. 
Rapid  glances  were  given  to  town  and  village,  as  we  rode 
away  from  a  land  which  is  rightly  called  terra  incognita  to 
most  of  foreign  travelers,  yet  which  is  full  of  attractive- 
ness to  a  well-read  visitor.  There  you  notice  an  old  hos- 
telry, with  a  vine-clad  doorway,  gabled  roof,  and  nest  of 
the  petted  stork  on  the  ridge.  This  bird  is  supposed  to 
bring  luck,  and  no  one  dares  to  molest  her.  She  cares  for 
her  young  with  great  affection,  and  has  been  known  to 
carry  water  in  her  beak  to  quench  the  fire  that  threatened 
her  nest.  At  Delft,  a  mother-bird,  finding  it  impossible  to 
rescue  her  brood,  sat  down  on  the  nest,  spread  her  wings 
over  her  brood,  and  perished  with  them  in  the  flames.  The 
name  of  the  stork  in  Hebrew  signifies  "  mercy,"  apparently 
given  on  account  of  this  uniform  fidelity  to  its  dam,  even 
to  death.  In  front  of  the  inn,  perhaps,  you  may  notice  a 
pole  from  which  the  archers  shoot  the  popinjay.  You  see, 
too,  odd  farm  gates,  square  haystacks,  triangular  trees,  and 
clean  cow-stalls,  where  even  the  tail  is  loosely  tied  to  the 
ceiling  to  keep  it  clean  !  A  sack  is  put  on  her  ladyship  in 
cold  weather,  like  those  of  tender  greyhounds  in  other 
lands. 

Those  horses  make  you  think  of  "Wouverman's  admirable 
pictures  of  this  animal.  The  horses  of  the  drayman, 
sportsman,  carrier,  or  soldier  which  he  painted  are  hardly 
equaled.     That  bed  of  tulips,  of  which  you  catch  a  sniff 


HOLLAND  AND   GERM  ANT.  99 

as  the  train  hurries  by,  recalls  the  tulip  trade  which  in 
1635  monopolized  all  the  other  industries  of  Holland.  The 
rarest  root  sold  for  5500  florins,  and  many  persons  were 
known  to  invest  a  fortune  of  100,000  florins  in  the  purchase 
of  forty  roots.  Fortunes  were  lost  in  the  gambling  specu- 
lations known  as  tulip  sales.  Hyacinth  bulbs  are  still  sent 
all  over  Europe.  When  the  wind  is  off-shore,  "  the  bal- 
samic odor  of  the  hyacinth  "  and  other  flowers  has  been 
detected.  The  anemone,  it  is  recorded,  was  first  carried 
hither  to  England,  by  a  man  who  only  succeeded  in  get- 
ting the  seed  from  the  stingy  proprietor  by  brushing 
against  the  plant  a  shaggy  great-coat,  worn  for  the  pur- 
pose. He  thus  secreted  the  precious  deposit,  and  went  his 
wajr  rejoicing.  That  herring  sign,  made  of  a  flower  gar- 
land and  colored  paper,  is  an  announcement  of  the  arrival 
of  this  fish  on  the  Dutch  coast.  The  herring  is  a  panacea 
for  every  complaint. 

Jan  Steen  two  hundred  years  ago  saved  from  oblivion 
many  of  these  quaint  pictures  of  domestic  life.  He  was  a 
Holbein  and  a  Burns  in  one.  Coming  home  from  one  of 
his  midnight  revels  at  Jan's  tavern,  the  painter  Mieris  once 
fell  into  a  dyke  and  was  nearly  drowned.  A  cobbler  who 
rescued  him,  was  surprised  to  see  his  velvet  doublet  and 
gold  buttons.  The  grateful  painter  gave  him  a  picture 
which  he  sold  for  800  florins.  That  was  probably  the 
only  gold  fish  that  was  ever  found  in  those  muddy  canals. 

UTKECHT    AND    ARNHEIM. 

We  stop  a  few  minutes  at  Utrecht,  to  which  Gen.  Igno- 
rance before  misled  me.  It  is  famous  for  the  treaty  (1713), 
which  secured  in  England  a  Protestant  succession  ;  also 
for  its  university  and  velvets.  Passing  through  Arnheim, 
I  noticed  the  pleasant  balconies  at  the  rear  of  dwellings, 
aud  cosy  groups  sitting  under  striped  awnings  on  piazzas 
below,  enjoying  an  afternoon  siesta.  In  this  old  Roman 
town  the  English  knight,  scholar,  and  poet,  Sir  Philip  Sid- 
ney, died,  1586,  of  a  wound  received  at  Zutphen.     I  tried 


100  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

to  get  some  refreshment  by  the  way  ;  but  station  after 
station  was  passed,  with  no  stop  for  food  or  for  other 
bodily  needs. 

At  Elten  the  kind  German  conductor,  to  whom  I  had 
made  plaintive  cry,  with  emphatic  gesture  across  the  gas- 
tronomic territory,  indicative  of  hunger,  said  :  "  Kom  mit 
me."  Taking  hold  of  the  lapel  of  my  coat,  he  led  me 
through  the  room  of  customs,  into  a  restaurant,  and  intro- 
duced me  to  a  smiling  Teuton,  who  at  once  held  out  a  bot- 
tle of  Bordeaux  wine.  That  was  altogether  too  tonic 
for  my  temperance  principles.  Not  recalling  the  Ger- 
man for  teetotalism,  Maine  law,  and  cognate  expres- 
sions, I  simply  made  request  for  coffee,  without  attempt- 
ing, in  my  famished  state,  any  argument  as  to  intoxi- 
cants. 

At  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  the  railway  carriages 
plunged  into  the  water,  and  were  submerged  nearly  up  to 
the  platforms,  running  into  scows,  in  which,  by  iron  chain, 
we  were  drawn  over  the  muddy  stream.  Another  plunge 
into  the  water,  and  the  train  was  soon  on  the  track  on  the 
western  shore. 

Cologne,  though  not  as  disagreeable  as  Coleridge  would 
have  us  believe,  is  more  interesting  for  its  historical  asso- 
ciations than  for  any  present  attractions.  It  took  its  name 
from  Colonia  Agrippina,  the  mother  of  Nero,  having  been 
born  here,  and  still  reflects  something  of  Italian  life.  The 
Carnival  is  one  feature,  and  the  popish  superstitions  form 
another,  of  the  life  of  the  modern  city.  Hither,  we  are 
told,  a  fleet  of  British  ships  carrying  11,000  virgins  was 
driven  by  tempest  up  the  Rhine,  whereupon  the  barbaric 
Huns  at  Cologne  slew  them  all  in  one  massacre.  Their 
bones  and  those  of  the  adoring  Magi — their  names  traced 
in  rubies  on  their  skulls — make,  some  of  the  many  peep- 
shows  to  which  curious  ones  are  admitted  for  a  proper  con- 
sideration. After  632  years'  delay,  the  great  cathedral 
seemed  approaching  completion. 


HOLLAND  AND   GERMANY.  101 

COLOGNE    CATHEDRAL. 

"  Unfinished  there  in  high  mid-air 
The  towers  halt  like  a  broken  prayer  ; 
Through  years  belated,  unconsummated, 
The  hope«of  its  architect  quite  frustrated." 

So  many  pens  have  written  of  the  solemn  beauty  of  its 
lengthened  aisles,  its  wondrbus  choir  and  uplifting  arches, 
of  its  shadowy  chapel,  its  sculptured  tombs  and  sacred 
relics,  that  nothing  need  be  added.  When  I  visited  Co- 
logne in  1855,  the  train  stopped  outside  the  city,  but  now 
the  tourist  is  landed  near  the  completed  cathedral.  There 
are  zoological  gardens,  museums,  and  picture  galleries  for 
those  who  care  to  tarry  long  enough  to  enrich  the  natives, 
including  a  score  of  "  original "  Eau  de  Cologne  manufac- 
turers. Hood  has  written,  "Take  care  of  your  pocket, 
take  care  of  your  pocket,  don't  wash  or  be  shaved  ;  go  like 
hairy  wild  men,  wear  a  cap  and  smock-frock."  It  is  sug- 
gested that  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  are  the  magnificent 
hotels,  as  considerable  money  is  deposited  in  them.  The 
word  Dampschiffe  (steamboat)  is  suggestive  of  damp 
sheets,  not  unknown  to  travelers  by  water.  Hood's  attempts 
to  get  along  with  English  were  as  unsatisfactory  as  some 
have  been  since  his  day.  Wishing  chicken  broth  made, 
his  wife  pointed  to  a  poultry  yard  opposite,  where  the 
feathery  facts  were  patent  to  all.  "  Ya,  ya,  sie  bringen 
fedders ! "  In  forty-five  minutes  the  servant  returned 
triumphantly  with  two  bundles  of  stationer's  quills  ! 
Rather  dry  eating. 

A  correspondent  of  a  .New  York  journal  wrote  home, 
that  he,  being  ignorant  of  every  tongue  but  English,  once 
got  on  a  boat  at  Coblentz  going  down  to  Cologne,  instead 
of  up  the  Rhine  to  Mayence,  as  he  supposed.  He  rushed 
to  the  edge  of  the  deck,  tossed  his  portmanteau  ashore,  and 
was  about  to  leap,  when  he  was  held  back  by  a  sailor.  He 
was  put  ashore  in  a  boat  at  the  first  village,  which  was  but 
a  dozen  mud  huts  ;  was  soaked  in  a  drizzling  rain  ;  laughed 


102  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

at  by  those  who  could  not  understand  his  agonizing  panto- 
mimes ;  charged  two  thalers  for  the  bench  of  a  noisj^, 
malodorous  beer-shop  on  which  he  rested  his  bones  during 
the  night ;  poured  a  steady  stream  of  groschen  into  the 
hands  of  the  keeper  of  the  den  to  signalize  and  stop  the 
next  upward-bound  steamer,  and  finally  was  returned  to 
Coblentz,  to  find  his  luggage  and  to  start  again  right.  So 
much  for  Gen.  Ignorance.  None  of  my  visits  abroad  fur- 
nished any  such  experiences,  and  eveiywhere,  save  in 
Holland,  English  and  French  did  service  at  least  in  meet- 
ing absolute  needs.  The  days  spent  on  the  Rhine  were 
made  particularly  pleasant  by  the  companionship  of  Ameri- 
can friends,  met  on  the  steamer,  on  their  way  to  Switzer- 
land. If  one  desires  to  hasten  his  movements,  a  trip  down 
the  river  with  the  tide  is  preferable  to  the  slow  passage  up 
against  it. 

THE    STORIED    RHINE. 

Of  the  enticing  beauty  and  lofty  grandeur  of  the  storied 
Rhine,  poets  and  painters  have  given  ample  descriptions. 
Nature  here  is  "  negligently  grand."     Here  is  seen 

"  The  rolling  stream,  the  precipice's  gloom, 
The  forest's  growth  and  Gothic  walls  between, 
The  wild  rocks  shaped  as  they  had  turrets  been, 
In  mockery  of  man's  art ;  and  these  withal 
A  race  of  faces  happy  as  the  scene 
Whose  fertile  bounties  here  extend  to  all, 
Still  springing  o'er  its  banks,  tho'  empires  near  them  fall." 

The  dark  story  of  feudal  times,  when  knights  and  barons 
and  robber  chiefs  met  in  sanguinary  strife ;  the  record  of 
later  battles  that  have  reddened  the  Rhine  and  added  new 
memories  to  its  romantic  past ;  the  traditions  that  linger 
about  the  old  convents  and  castles  ;  fairy  tales  and  songs 
of  troubadour  ;  hymns  of  priest  and  nun ;  legends  of  the 
mountain  and  the  glen  still  told  by  humble  peasants — all 
these  give  a  charm  to  the  region,  which  the  scenery  alone, 
grand  though  it  is,  never  would  possess  without  them. 


HOLLAND  AND   GERMANY.  103 

The  day  was  balmy  and  bright.  The  August  heat  felt 
on  shore  was  cooled  by  the  breeze  we  met  or  made.  De- 
licious ice-creams,  cherries,  peaches,  and  other  fruits,  were 
served  on  deck.  Steamers,  barges,  and  rafts  passed  us, 
and  at  every  turn  of  the  river  new  changes  of  scenery  were 
made  in  the  panorama  of  valley  and  mountain,  village  and 
city.  At  Bonn  yon  think  of  Beethoven,  who  was  born 
there,  of  Niebuhr,  who  died  there,  and  of  Lange,  who  lives 
there,  with  other  celebrities  of  the  University.  At  Konigs- 
winter,  above  the  ripening  corn  and  vine  your  eye  rests  on 
"  the  castled  crag  of  Drachenfels."  The  seven  mountains, 
Rolandseck  and  Nonnenwerth,  follow.  While  your 
thoughts  linger  on  the  bloody  tale  of  Drachenblut,  or 
the  pleasanter  story  of  the  beautiful  Hildegunde,  Ober- 
winter,  Ardenach,  and  Neuwid  appear.  Now  you  reach 
the  blue  Moselle,  and  Coblentz  with  its  breezy  promenades, 
its  fragrant  lime-trees,  shady  avenues,  and  massive  bridge 
leading  to  the  base  of  Ehrenbreitstein,  the  Gibraltar  of  the 
Rhine,  on  which  an  "  iron  shower  for  years  "  once  fell  in 
vain,  a  fortress  which  famine  or  gold  alone  can  gain.  At 
that  old  church  of  St.  Castor  the  grandsons  of  Charle- 
magne met  to  divide  the  empire  in  843.  Prince  Metternich 
and  Henrietta  Sontag  were  born  here.  Now  the  royal 
castle  of  Stolzenfels,  the  fortress  of  Marksburg,  and  two 
others  called  "  Brothers,"  are  seen.  The  guide-books  will 
outline,  at  least,  the  story  of  Lady  Geraldine. 

OUTDOOR   TOILERS. 

Notice  the  luxuriant  cherry  orchards  ;  the  abundant 
wheat  fields  ;  the  grassy  banks  on  which  the  snowy  cloths 
are  laid  to  dry  and  whiten  ;  the  mower  and  reaper  ;  the 
women  binding  the  sheaves,  and  the  vinedresser  pruning 
his  vines  that  they  may  bring  forth  more  fruit  ;  the  smiling 
chateaux,  as  well  as  lordly  mansion  built  with  foreign  gold; 
the  grotesque  sun-dials  on  the  houses  ;  the  countless  images 
of  the  Crucified  and  shrines  of  the  Virgin  by  the  roadside. 
Here  comes  down  a  floating  house  on  a  rude  raft,  where 


104  outdoor  life  in  Europe. 

people  live  month  after  month,  as  on  Western  waters. 
There  rises  one  of  the  grandest  ruins  of  feudal  days,  Rhine- 
f els,  near  by  the  fierce  and  foaming  rapids  where  the  fabled 
maiden  sat  on  the  rocks  at  the  evening  hour  and  lured  the 
boatmen  to  destruction  by  her  song.  Shonburg  frowns  on 
the  stronghold  below,  in  midstream,  where  blackmail  was 
levied  by  robber  chiefs  in  olden  time.  It  is  eight  o'clock. 
The  moon  is  up.  The  glory  of  the  day  is  followed  by  the 
solemn  beauty  of  the  night. 

BINGEN   OK   THE    RHINE. 

Here  we  leave  the  boat  to  catch  a  train  that  will  bring 
us  to  Heidelberg  before  we  sleep.  At  the  railway  station 
I  soberly  asked  a  young  man,  who  seemed  to  be  a  resident, 
if  he  had  ever  heard  of  a  soldier  of  the  Legion  who  once 
"  lay  dying  at  Algiers,"  and  who  made  frequent  mention 
of  "  loved  Bingen,"  "  calm  Bingen,"  "  dear  Bingen  on  the 
Rhine."  Strange  to  say,  he  could  not  recall  any  circum- 
stances of  the  kind,  at  least  among  the  young  men  of  his 
acquaintance  in  the  town,  nor  had  he  ever  heard  of  Mrs. 
Norton  or  of  her  grandfather,  the  brilliant  Sheridan. 
Foiled  in  this,  I  repressed  my  curiosity  as  to  Archbishop 
Hatto,  formerly  a  retired  clergyman  in  that  neighborhood, 
who  once  made  a  corner  in  grain  and  got  cornered  himself 
in  a  small  tower  which  I  had  just  passed,  indeed  was  eaten 
up  by  mice,  if  Southey  speaks  the  truth.  A  few  minutes' 
ride  by  rail  and  Mayence  is  reached.  The  tomb  of  Mrs. 
Charlemagne  ;  the  house  marked  "  Hof  zum  Gensfleisch," 
where  Gutenberg  was  born  ;  the  battle-scarred  cathedral 
and  the  crumbling  tower  erected  by  a  Roman  legion  before 
the  days  of  Christ — these  and  other  sights  we  had  to  pass 
by.  Across  the  winding  Rhine,  through  "  The  Garden  of 
Germany,"  we  were  whirled  along  at  great  speed  till  Darm- 
stadt was  reached,  which,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  the 
last  home  of  the  lamented  Princess  Alice.  The  golden 
light  lingered  in  the  west,  and  the  rising  moon  flooded  the 
earth  with  beauty.     To  complete  the  picture,  far   away 


HOLLAND  AND   GERMANY.  105 

over  the  forests  of  fir  there  rose  a  leaden  cloud  of  fantastic 
shape,  now  and  then,  as  it  were,  fringed  with  fire,  as  vivid 
lightning  flashed  behind  and  through  its  piled-up  masses. 
Another  hour  brought  us  to  the  valley  of  the  Neckar. 
"  The  hour  when  churchyards  yawn "  found  me  safely 
housed  in  the  luxurious  Hotel  de  PEurope,  Heidelberg. 
The  mercury  by  day  had  marked  83°,  but  the  dewy  cool- 
ness of  the  night  made  even  a  blanket  comfortable.  Our 
rest  was  undisturbed  by  student  song  or  shout  of  reveler, 
for  it  was  the  time  of  midsummer  vacation. 

HEIDELBERG. 

We  rode  by  the  university  buildings  the  next  day.  They 
wore  a  deserted  look.  It  would  have  been  pleasant  to  have 
visited  the  library,  which  numbers  near  a  quarter  of  a  mil- 
lion volumes,  the  cabinets,  laboratories  and  museums,  but 
not  a  book  did  we  see,  not  a  grave  professor  or  a  single 
rollicking  college  man,  with  his  jaunty,  vizorless  cap  of  red 
or  green.  Our  driver  took  us  in  view  of  the  gorge  on  the 
opposite  banks  where  dueling  parties  have  had  their  en- 
counters, half  a  dozen  a  day  sometimes.  The  castle  was 
soon  reached.  Turenne's  cannon,  the  thunderbolt  and 
"  the  tooth  of  time  "  have  spoiled  its  beauty,  yet  as  one 
studies  the  exquisite  moldings  and  sculptures,  the  flutings 
and  draperies  and  garlands,  the  fruits  and  flowers,  faces  of 
man  and  bird  and  beast,  rosettes  and  arabesques  carved  out 
of  stone  with  wondrous  skill,  he  cannot  but  be  charmed 
with  what  remains  of  this  Alhambra  of  Germany.     Yes, 

"  The  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls," 

and  crumbling  ruins  "  old  in  story,"  not  merely  that  of  the 
sunlight,  but  the  fascination  of  historic  and  poetic  romance. 
We  wandered  about  the  gardens,  crept  through  a  subter- 
ranean passage,  dark  as  Erebus — lighting  matches  as  we 
went,  and  dodging  the  slimy  drops  that  oozed  from  the 
moldering  arches  above  and  made  muddy  pools  beneath, 
marked  well  the  bulwarks  and  the  towers  thereof, "on  some 


106  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

of  which  linden  trees  were  growing  ;  feasted  our  eyes  on 
the  valley  through  which  the  Neckar  rushes,  and  noted  the 
slopes  beyond,  convent  crowned  ;  the  valley  of  the  Rhine 
westward,  the  Alsatian  hills  and  the  oak-crested  hills  of 
Geissburg.  Just  by  the  edge  of  the  Jettenbuhl  we  came 
upon  an  artist,  who  had  secured  from  this  commanding  out- 
look a  view  of  the  wide  panorama  while  yet  the  morning 
light  and  longer  shadows  gave  a  depth  and  richness  to  the 
picture  which  would  be  lost  at  noon.  But  we  carried  away 
from  Heidelberg,  in  memory  and  imagination,  more  endur- 
ing impressions  than  the  artist  could  make  on  paper  or 
canvas,  for  "  There  can  be  no  farewell  to  scenes  like 
these." 

Just  here  we  have  a  suggestion  of  the  opulent  pleasures 
of  reminiscences,  which  follow  travel,  as  those  of  anticipa- 
tion precede  it,  and  those  of  realization  attend  it.  Memory 
and  imagination,  as  twin  enchanters,  reconstruct  the 
scenery  of  the  past,  and  bear  us  to  and  fro  with  the  ease 
and  speed  of  thought.  In  his  blindness  at  fourscore, 
Niebuhr  used  to  sit  quietly  in  his  chair,  while  a  serene  smile 
would  light  up  his  venerable  face.  When  asked  the  source 
of  his  pleasure,  he  would  refer  to  his  Oriental  travels,  which 
he  was  again  reproducing  before  his  still  unclouded  mental 
vision — a  sweet  alleviation  in  hours  of  unwilling  idleness. 

Carlsbuhe,  the  capital  of  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden, 
is  built  in  the  form  of  a  fan,  its  streets  converging  to  a 
common  centei',  the  Ducal  Palace.  Only  brief  and  rapid 
glances  were  had  of  its  cheerful  avenues,  parks  and  sub- 
urbs. I  remember  the  luscious  strawberries  which  were 
brought  to  us  by  peasant  girls,  a  partial  compensation  on 
a  hot  August  day  for  the  lack  of  cold  water,  so  constantly 
noticed  by  those  traveling  abroad  who  are  accustomed  to 
the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  American  railways.  The 
guard  seemed  to  suffer  still  more,  sweating  in  his  thick 
woolen  uniform,  and  wearing  a  stiff,  glazed  cap,  that  looked 
unseasonable  in  midsummer.  The  women  toiling  in  the 
harvest  field,  tawny  and  coarse  looking,  were  the  last  of 


SWITZERLAND.  107 

the  objects  we  noticed  as  we  were  swiftly  borne  along  to 
the  borders  of  Switzerland. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Switzerland. 

the  city  of  basle. 

An  unclouded  sun  poured  down  its  torrid  heat  as  we 
reached  Basle.  I  found  comfortable  quarters  at  Hotel 
Schrieder,  opposite  the  German  station,  on  the  Swabian 
side  of  the  Rhine.  Towards  evening  I  took  a  stroll  of  four 
miles,  crossing  the  river  and  exploring  pretty  thoroughly 
the  streets  of  the  older  section,  known  as  Gross  Basle. 
German  is  spoken,  and  three-quarters  of  the  people  are 
Protestants.  Its  streets  are  well  supplied  with  fountains, 
and  kept  with  Dutch  cleanliness.  The  religious  character 
of  the  people  used  to  be  shown  by  their  strict  sumptuary 
laws,  and  by  the  mottoes  over  their  doors.  Sometimes 
business  and  religion  got  strangely  mixed,  as  hei*e  :  "  "Wacht 
auf  ihr  Menschen  und  that  Buss,  Ich  heiss  zum  goldenen 
Rinderfuss  " — "  Wake  and  repent  your  sins  with  grief,  I'm 
called  the  golden  shin  of  Beef."  On  Sunday  all  must  go  to 
meeting  dressed  in  black,  and  carriages  were  not  permitted 
in  town  after  10  p.m.  A  footman  behind  a  carriage  was 
forbidden,  as  were  slashed  doublets  and  hose.  The  num- 
ber of  dishes  and  the  wines  at  dinner  parties  were  controlled 
by  the  Unzichterherrn,  or  censors.  In  1839  a  visitor  says, 
"  Even  now,  should  the  traveler  arrive  at  the  gates  of  the 
town  on  Sunday  during  church  time,  he  will  find  them 
closed,  and  his  carriage  will  be  detained  outside  until  the 
service  is  over."  The  clocks  used  to  be  kept  an  hour 
ahead  of  the  true  time,  as  a  conspiracy  to  deliver  the  city 
to  an  enemy  at  midnight,  it  is  said,  was  once  frustrated  by 
the  clock  striking  one  instead  of  twelve.  There  used  to  be 
the  Lallenkonig  of  the  clock  tower  on  the  bridge,  a  huge 
head,  with  long  protruding  tongue  and  rolling  eyes.     The 


108  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

swing  of  the  pendulum  made  these  grotesque  grimaces, 
which  haA^e  been  interpreted  as  offering  contempt  to  Little 
Basle  opposite,  then  owned  by  the  Duchy  of  Baden. 

In  this  line  of  grotesque  ornamentation  is  the  ''Dance  of 
Death,"  attributed  to  Holbein,  who  was  born  at  Basle,  and 
died  in  the  plague  at  London,  1554.  It  is  said  that  he 
was,  in  his  days  of  poverty,  emjaloyed  by  an  exacting  man, 
who  watched  closely  the  scaffolding  from  below,  to  see  if 
he  kept  close  to  his  work.  Young  Holbein,  being  disposed 
now  and  then  to  steal  away  to  a  neighboring  wine  shop, 
painted  a  pair  of  dangling  legs  so  very  like  his  own,  that 
the  man  was  entirely  deceived,  and  gave  him  credit  for  a 
diligence  he  was  not  then  disposed  to  show.  The  idea  of 
dancing  skeletons  was  not  original  with  Holbein,  for 
ancient  Greek  and  Roman  art  records  it  on  sculptured  sar- 
cophagi and  household  lamps.  Petronius  describes  a 
similar  personation  introduced  at  a  Roman  banquet. 
Monkish  chronicles  of  England,  translated  1390,  tell  of 
church-yard  dances.  In  allusion  to  the  plague  at  Basle, 
during  the  continuance  of  the  great  council  1431-1443,  the 
jjrelates  ordered  the  painting  of  a  "  Dance  of  Death." 
This  was  before  the  birth  of  Holbein,  and  doubtless  sug- 
gested to  him  the  idea.  Meglinger's  work  on  Lucerne 
bridge,  the  ghastly  decorations  of  Campo  Santa  at  Pisa, 
and  many  other  lugubrious  delineations  of  death  and  de- 
struction, are  in  keeping  with  the  lurid  view  of  the  here- 
after then  prevalent. 

SUNDAY   SIGHTS. 

No  traces  either  of  saturnine  feeling  or  of  Puritanic 
strictness  revealed  themselves  during  two  visits  to  Basle. 
Sunday  seemed  a  festive  day  and  given  np  to  drinking 
and  pleasuring  by  many,  at  least  the  latter  part  of  the  day. 
The  outdoor  orchestras  and  brass  bands  in  the  beer  gardens 
struck  np  their  music  at  4  p.m.  I  noticed  that  whole 
families  oftentimes  would  take  a  table  in  these  gardens, 
and  together,  from  the  youngest  up,  indulge  their  bibulous 
propensities.     I  looked  into  one  or  two  morning  congre- 


SWITZERLAND.  109 

gations  in  Romish  churches  on  my  way  to  Protestant 
service.  These  were  crowded  as  usual,  and  some  German 
chorals  were  finely  rendered.  About  a  score  of  strangers 
met  at  Three  Kings  and  listened  to  an  English  preacher 
who  gave  a  familiar  discourse  on  the  Healing  of  the  Leper, 
rehearsing  something  of  his  own  observations  of  leprosy  in 
the  East.  The  hotel,  Trois  Rois,  is  named  from  a  con- 
ference on  this  spot  in  1024  of  Conrad  II.,  Henry  III.  of 
Germany,  and  Rodolph  III.,  who  there  signed  a  contract 
for  the  protection  of  the  town.  Basle  was  founded  by  the 
Romans  and  called  Basilia.  The  University,  Minster, 
Council  Hall,  Museum  and  Arsenal  are  full  of  interest  to 
the  student  of  ancient  annals.  The  monument  com- 
memorating the  battle  of  St.  Jacob  tells  us  that  "  Here 
died  1300  Swiss  and  Confederates  fighting  against  Austria 
and  France.     Our  souls  to  God,  our  bodies  to  the  enemy  !  " 

THIRD-CLASS    SWISS    CARRIAGES. 

It  is  167  miles  from  Basle  to  Geneva.  The  third-class 
railway  carriages  had  a  central  aisle  and  carried  thirty 
persons  on  each  side,  couples  facing  each  other.  The  cars 
had  low-back  seats  and  everything  open  between.  The 
better  ventilation,  the  absence  of  the  hot  cushions  and 
padded  sides  of  the  close  apartments,  first  and  second- 
class,  the  better  opportunity  of  seeing  and  the  liberty  of 
moving  about,  made  the  change  agreeable,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  lessened  expense.  A  Swiss  gentleman  with  his 
English  wife  were  pleasant  seatmates,  and  gave  me  not  a 
little  information  about  Switzerland.  But  the  sudden 
appearance  of  Lake  Geneva,  or  Leman,  was  a  most  de- 
lightful surprise  in  every  respect. 

LAKE  LEMAN  AND  GENEVA. 

"  Clear  placid  Leman!  thy  contrasted  lake 
With  the  wild  world  I  dwelt  in,  is  a  thing 
"Which  warns  me  with  its  stillness  to  forsake 
Earth's  troubled  waters  for  a  purer  spring. 
Drawing  near, 


110  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

There  breathes  a  living  fragrance  from  the  shore 

Of  flowers  yet  fresh  with  childhood.     Here  the  Rhone 

Hath  spread  himself  a  couch,  the  Alps  have  reared  a  throne." 

This  beautiful  expanse  of  water  lay  bright  as  silver  under 
the  westering  sun,  except  where  the  leaden  hues  of  bare, 
rugged,  wrinkled  mountains  shadowed  it,  while  its  borders 
were  fringed  with  populous  villages,  vineyards  and  gardens. 
I  saw  the  blue  and  arrowy  Rhone  rushing  out  from  between 
heights  that  appear  "  as  lovers  who  have  parted."  These 
snowy  peaks  rise  to  the  height  of  nearly  10,000  feet.  Be- 
yond the  seven-headed  Dent  du  Midi  were  the  Tete  Noir  and 
the  Alps  of  Savoy.  Sixty  miles  southward  may  be  seen 
Mont  Blanc  in  regal  splendor,  although  amid  the  confusing 
grandeur  of  the  sudden  prospect  opened  I  could  not  certainly 
designate  it  at  the  moment.  Voltaire  was  right  in  vaunting 
the  beauties  of  the  exquisite  scene,  "  Mon  Lac  est  le  pre- 
mier ! "  Surely  no  fairer  spot  need  be  sought  for  a  summer 
resting-place  or  for  a  longer  period.  I  rather  enjoyed  the 
legend  of  Bishop  Protais,  who  was  buried  here  in  530.  It 
was  proposed  in  1400  to  move  his  remains,  but  "  he  showed 
some  repugnance  and  did  not  seem  to  be  inclined  to  go  any 
further."  A  sensible  corpse  !  With  Shakespearean  empha- 
sis it  cried,  "  Blessed  be  the  man  that  spares  these  stones, 
and  cursed  be  he  that  moves  my  bones."  For  the  living  or 
the  dead  the  shore  of  this  crystal  sea  is  a  good  stopping- 
place. 

Alexandre  Dumas  wrote,  "  Geneva  sleeps  like  an  Eastern 
queen  above  the  banks  of  the  lake,  her  head  reposing  on 
the  base  of  Mont  Saleve,  her  feet  kissed  by  each  advancing 
wave."  Voltaire  said  that  when  he  shook  his  wig,  its  pow- 
der dusted  all  the  republic,  and  a  noble  of  Savoy  said  that 
he  could  swallow  Geneva  as  easily  as  he  could  empty 
a  spoon.  But  though  circumscribed  in  territorial  extent, 
its  moral  influence  is  as  wide  as  the  earth.  The  conflicts  of 
Genevan  ideas  were  sneeringly  compared  by  Emperor 
Paul  to  "a  tempest  in  a  tumbler,"  but  the  results  of 
the  life  of  a  single  man  like  Calvin  are  of  immeasurable  im- 


SWITZERLAND.  Ill 

portance  to  ttie  world.  "No  man  has  lived,"  said  Dr. 
Wisner,  "  to  whom  the  world  is  under  greater  "obligations 
for  the  liberty  it  now  enjoys  than  to  John  Calvin."  * 
Nor  should  D'Aubigne,  Felix  Neff,  Neckai',  Sismondi  and 
others  be  forgotten.  One  of  my  first  visits  was  to  Calvin's 
former  home,  No.  116  Rue  de  Chanoines — canons — which 
was  pointed  out  to  me  by  a  canon-ical  looking  man  dressed 
in  black,  who,  in.  broken  English,  made  inquiries  about 
America,  and,  in  parting,  extended  his  hand  very  deferen- 
tially and  said  kindly,  "  Good  travel,  good  travel !  "  The 
birthplace  of  Rousseau,  69  Rue  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  is 
marked  by  an  inscription  on  its  front.  When  sixteen  years 
of  age  he  was  an  apprentice  to  an  engineer,  but  an  unwill- 
ing toiler,  for  he  longed  for  wider  liberty.  Returning  one 
night  from  a  ramble  in  the  country,  he  arrived  at  the  city 
gate  just  as  the  drawbridge  rose,  and  was  excluded  for  the 
night.  Fearing  to  meet  his  austere  employer  he  absconded, 
and  became  a  wanderer  in  Savoy,  then  a  student  at  Turin, 
where  he  exchanged  Calvinism  for  Romanism.  Thus,  liter- 
ally on  the  swing  of  a  gate  "hinged"  the  career  of  this 
brilliant,  godless  man.  The  churches,  university,  museums 
and  arsenal  contain  not  a  few  relics  of  olden  time.  In  the 
library  founded  by  Bonnivard  are  homilies  written  on 
papyrus  by  Augustine  in  the  sixth  century ;  in  the 
academic  museum  is  a  stuffed  elephant  which  once  be- 
longed to  the  town  authorities,  but  proved  to  be  so  much 
of  an  elephant  on  their  hands  that  it  was  shot  by  a  cannon- 
ball  and  its  meat  sold  to  the  restaurants  to  pay  the  expense 
of  his  taking  off.  More  savory  reminiscences  are  suggested 
by  a  forty-four  pound  trout  and  other  preserved  specimens 
of  Swiss  fish.  But  following  out  my  purpose  to  see 
" places  and  people,  not  things"  I  prefer  to  be  outdoors 
while  at  Geneva,  as  elsewhere. 

*  As  Lord  Lytton  has  said,  Calvin  is  "the  loftiest  of  reformers,  one 
whose  influence  has  been  the  most  wide  and  lasting.  Wherever  prop-' 
erty  is  secure,  wherever  thought  is  free,  you  trace  the  inflexible, 
inquisitive,  unconquerable  soul  of  Calvin," 


112  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

VIEWS    A-FOOT. 

The  numerous  bridges  over  the  Rhone  and  the  swift, 
blue  torrent  rushing  beneath  them,  a  few  hours  ago  a 
muddy  stream,  now  of  azure  hue,  clear  and  pure  ;  the 
washerwomen  busy  by  the  brink,  rubbing,  rinsing  and 
wringing  their  clothes  as  they  leaned  over  a  wooden  bar- 
rier, nearly  on  a  level  with  the  water  ;  the  crowds  about 
the  cafes  on  the  Isle  of  Rousseau  and  on  other  breezy 
promenades;  the  steep,  narrow,  crooked  streets  of  _  the 
older  part  of  the  town,  with  the  shops  and  street  markets, 
interested  me  exceedingly. 

Geneva  is  at  the  height  of  the  season  a  vast  caravansary, 
on  the  highway  of  travel  between  Germany  and  the  Medi- 
terranean. One  is  sure  here  to  meet  his  countrymen,  from 
whatever  lands  he  hails.  The  loveliness  of  its  location, 
the  healthf ulness  of  the  town,  its  .literary  and  religious  life, 
with  the  political  and  historical  interest  attaching  to  it, 
combine  to  make  Geneva  a  favorite  center.  Begging  is 
forbidden  and  but  few  idlers  are  seen,  compared  with 
Roman  Catholic  communities.  There  are  wandering 
Savoyards  here  who,  perhaps,  by  singing  can  earn  a  few 
centimes  a  day.  Rarely  have  I  heard  a  mellower  voice 
than  was  heard  late  one  night  under  my  window.  Its 
pensive  sweetness  and  soulful  emphasis  can  never  be  for- 
gotten. The  lad  may  have  been  thirteen.  He  had  no 
instrument,  but  he  sung  like  a  nightingale.  "  There  was  a 
sadness  in  the  voice  that  was  not  in  the  song."  This  little 
fellow  was  evidently  singing  for  his  bread,  and  put  into 
his  ballad  the  same  pleading  earnestness  which  character- 
ized that  English  barrister  who  felt,  he  said,  as  if  his 
children  were  pulling  at  his  skirts,  asking  for  food.  In 
both  cases  a  triumph  was  won. 

Walks  about  Geneva  bring  you  to  the  grave  of  D'Au- 
bigne  ;  to  the  bank  of  the  Arve  ;  to  Cologny,  the  residence 
of  John  Milton  and  Lord  Byron,  where  "  Manfred  "  and  the 
third  canto  of  "Childe  Harold "  were  written  ;  to  Robert 


S  WITZERLAND.  1 1 3 

Peel's  mansion,  that  of  Rothschild  and  the  former  home 
of  Empress  Josephine,  and  to  the  Protestant  burial-ground 
where  Calvin,  Sir  Humphrey  Davy  and  other  eminent  men 
have  their  resting-place.  Not  two  leagues  out  of  Geneva 
is  Voltaire's  chateau,  where  you  can  see  the  room  in  which 
he  received  the  deputies  of  kings  and  emperors  ;  the  study 
where  he  wrote  ;  the  terrace  and  garden  overlooking  the 
lake  and  commanding  a  view  of  Mont  Blanc,  with  other 
memorials  of  the  philosopher.  The  chapel  is  removed  on 
which  he  placed  the  ambiguous  inscription,  "Deo  erexit 
YoltaireP 

SWISS    FESTIVALS. 

One  dark  December  night  in  1602,  the  army  of  the  Duke 
of  Savoy  came  secretly  to  the  gates  of  Geneva,  3000  strong. 
The  scaling-ladders  were  already  placed  upon  the  walls, 
and  200  men  had  penetrated  the  fortifications,  when  a 
sentinel  going  his  midnight  rounds  lantern  in  hand  dis- 
covered them,  fired,  and  roused  the  town,  the  enemy  was 
driven  away  and  left  200  dead  behind.  This  ended  for- 
ever the  plots  of  the  House  of  Savoy.  The  faithful  sentinel 
fell  in  the  attack,  but  his  lantern  is  still  kept,  as  is  that  of 
Guy  Fawkes  at  Oxford.  The  Fete  de  l'Escalade  is  still 
observed. 

Still  older  is  the  Vine  Festival,  celebrated  at  long  inter- 
vals at  Vevay  by  an  ancient  guild,  centuries  old.  At  the 
last  pageant  1000  participated,  and  40,000  spectators  were 
accommodated  on  a  platform  in  the  market-place.  Ceres, 
Bacchus,  Silenus,  Satyrs,  Fauns  and  Nymphs  ;  white  oxen 
and  horses  caparisoned  with  tiger-skins  ;  flower-girls  and 
shepherds ;  haymakers  and  milkmaids ;  reapers  and 
gleaners  ;  ploughmen  and  vinedressers,  each  and  all  bear- 
ing fruits  of  the  earth  and  implements  of  agriculture  ; 
woodcutters  and  chamois  hunters,  with  bands  of  music  and 
choirs  of  singers,  made  up  the  procossion.  There  was  an 
invocation  or  anthem,  Ranz  des  Vaches — the  cow-herd's 
melody  played  on  the  alphorn  to  call  the  cattle  home — 
then  tableaux  or  cantatas,  where  the  parties  named  went 


114  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

through  a  representation  of  their  varied  vocations,  and  at 
the  close  of  each  of  the  two  days  devoted  to  the  festival 
there  were  illuminations,  banquets  and  out-door  dancing. 

OVER    THE    LAKE. 

From  Geneva  to  Chillon  is  about  50  miles.  Including 
frequent  landings,  the  time  by  steamer  is  about  four 
hours.  I  never  had  in  travel  more  satisfaction  crowded 
into  an  equal  space  of  time.  There  were  a  hundred  pas- 
sengers aboard,  but  none  of  them  interrupted  niy  reveries, 
unless  in  answer  to  a  question.  Memory  was  busy  with  the 
past,  as  my  eye  rested  on  one  object  after  another  around 
which  poetry  and  history  had  thrown  undying  associations. 
The  day  Was  serene  and  the  air  balmy.  The  atmo- 
spheric and  cloud  effects  in  the  picture  that  continually 
opened  before  us  were  full  of  varied  beauty.  Fields  of 
snow  were  seen  in  the  higher  Alps  ;  a  rich  purple  light 
clothed  the  lower  ranges  as  with  velvet ;  and  on  the  ter- 
raced slopes  nearer  the  lake,  vineyards  and  gardens 
bloomed,  with  picturesque  villas  and  hamlets,  towns  and 
villages,  churches  and  castles,  embowered  in  grove  or  for- 
est. Here  is  what  was  the  huntiug-seat  of  the  Burgun- 
dian  kings,  and  there  the  former  home  of  Madame  de 
Stael,  with  Roman  tombstones  and  other  relics  of  Julius 
Caesars  battles  with  the  Helvetians.  Convent  and  hermit- 
age, farmhouse  and  Druidic  retreat  are  scattered  here  and 
there,  each  with  its  history.  Over  yonder  precipice,  one 
bright  August  day  like  this,  while  enjoying  with  her  towns- 
people a  rural  festival,  a  }Toung  bride  slipped  and  fell.  In 
trying  to  save  her,  her  husband  also  was  dashed  to  the 
dejjths  below.  To  this  day  there  is  a  crimson  colored 
rock  pointed  out  as  bearing  the  stains  of  their  blood. 

Midway  in  our  trip  over  this  crescent  lake  is  Morges,  an 
elegant  town  with  its  lofty  donjon,  170  feet,  built  by  the 
beloved  Bertha,  queen  of  the  Burgundians,  eleven  centu- 
ries ago.  Her  age  Avas  called  a  golden  one.  She  used  to 
mount  her  palfrey  and  visit  all  her  people,  distaff  in  hand, 


SWITZERLAND.  115 

to  encourage  industry  among  them.  Coins,  monuments 
and  seals  represent  her  on  her  throne  with  this  ancient  em- 
blem in  her  hand.  The  proverbs  of  German  and  Italian 
introduce  her  name  as  significant  of  good  old  times,  like 
those  of  Queen  Bess  of  England.  On  the  opposite  shore  is 
Thonon,  once  the  residence  of  Madame  Guyon. 

Lausanne  is  a  tri -mountain  city  superbly  placed  on  the 
lower  slopes  of  Mount  Jura,  girdled  by  groves,  pine  and 
acacia,  ample  parks  and  fruitful  vineyards,  with  the  Alps 
of  Savoy  and  the  Valais  in  view  beyond  the  lake,  rising  in 
rosy  light.  Westward  are  the  Jura,  breathing,  as  Ruskin 
says,  "  the  first  utterances  of  those  mighty  mountain  sym- 
phonies soon  to  be  more  bodily  lifted  and  wildly  broken 
along  the  battlements  of  the  Alps.  The  far-reaching  ridges 
of  pastoral  mountain  succeed  each  other,  like  the  long  and 
sighing  swell  which  moves  over  quiet  waters  from  some 
far-off  stormy  sea." 

But  the  scenic  charms  of  Lausanne  are  not  all.  Historic 
associations  begin  far  back  in  the  sixth  century,  when  the 
relics  of  St.  Anne ,  brought  hither  pilgrims  from  afar  and 
gave  impulse  to  the  growth  of  the  place,  hence  its  name 
Laus  Annce.  Silva  Belini,  or  woods  of  Bel,  saw  the 
bloody  sacrifices  of  Druids.  In  1479  occurred  that  papal 
farce  of  trying  and  excommunicating  in  the  name  of  the 
Trinity  the  army  of  May -beetles  that  were  devouring  every 
green  thing  in  the  neighborhood.  On  the  road  leading  to 
Ouchy,  the  landing-place,  is  the  hotel  that  marks  the  for- 
mer residence  of  Gibbon.  The  terrace  remains  where  the 
historian,  one  June  midnight  in  1787,  walked  after  he  had 
concluded  his  Roman  history.  He  says  :  "  After  laying 
down  my  pen,  I  took  several  turns  in  a  covered  walk  of 
acacias,  which  commands  a  prospect  of  the  country,  the 
lake,  and  the  mountains.  The  air  was  temperate,  the  sky 
was  serene,  the  silver  orb  of  the  moon  was  reflected  from 
the  waters,  and  all  nature  was  silent.  I  will  not  dissemble 
the  first  emotions  of  joy  on  recovery  of  my  freedom.  But 
my  pride  was  soon  humbled,  and  a  sober  melancholy  was 


116  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

spread  over  my  mind  by  the  idea  that  I  had  taken  an  ever- 
lasting leave  of  an  old  and  agreeable  companion,  and  that 
whatsoever  might  be  the  future  of  my  history,  the  life  of 
the  historian  must  be  short  and  precarious.'' 

VEVAY    AND    CLARENS. 

Vevay  is  a  focal  point,  perhaps  the  best  for  a  view  of 
Lake  Leman.  It  is  also  a  resort  in  winter  and  called  "  a 
miniature  TCice."  On  an  eminence  behind  the  town  is  the 
cathedral  church.  A  Genevese  author  writes,  "  The  as- 
pect of  this  scene,  at  once  so  majestic  and  so  rich,  seemed 
to  me,  as  I  quitted  the  church  service,  like  a  continuation  of 
the  Creator's  praise."  Here  are  buried  the  remains  of  the 
regicide  Ludlow  and  those  of  Broughton,  who  read  to 
Charles  I.  his  sentence  of  death.  They  died  here  in  exile, 
a  price  having  been  set  on  their  heads.  I  noticed  the  old 
baronial  castle  of  Blonay  and  the  donjon  beyond,  the  spot 
associated    with    Rousseau's    "Nouvelle    Heloise ";    and 

there 

"  Clarens,  sweet  Clarens,  birthplace  of  deep  Love  ! 
Lone,  wonderful  and  deep.     It  hath  a  sound 
And  sense  and  sight  of  sweetness." 

Guide-books  usually  praise  and  point  out  the  felicitous 
appropriateness  of  poetic  fancies  as  applied  to  places,  but 
the  one  I  held  in  my  hand,  jmblished  by  Ghisletti,  of 
Geneva,  remarks,  "  Clarens  is  a  dust-box  at  the  foot  of  a 
bare  hill,  and  in  warm  weather  inspires  no  sentiments  save 
those  of  weariness  and  thirst."  I  remember  counting  15 
tall  poplars  that  stood  like  gendarmes  along  the  shore 
beyond,  and  the  swans  and  white  doves  that  appeared  as 
our  steamer  came  near  Montreux. 

A    FAMOUS    PRISON. 

Two  miles  more  completed  our  sail.  We  landed  about 
a  mile  from  the  Castle  of  Chillon,  and  three  of  us  took  a 
row-boat  and  were  pulled  to  the  famous  prison,  which  poet 
and  artist  have  made  familiar  to  every  one.     It  is  a  silent, 


SWITZERLAND.  117 

impressive  picture  of  feudal  barbarism,  and  well  worth  in- 
spection. Its  white  walls  and  gothic  turrets  shone  in  the 
bright  sunlight,  as  our  curtained  barge  swung  round  the 
upper  angle  and  we  alighted  under  the  drawbridge.  We 
looked  into  the  depths,  "  a  thousand  feet  below  "—only  the 
actual  depth  is  about  500  feet. 

We  waited  till  a  dozen  tourists  were  gathered,  and  then 
a  bright  French  woman  took  us  in  charge.  She  rattled  off 
her  lesson  with  great  speed.  I  suggested  to  her  that  some 
of  us  preferred  English,  but  that  advice  was  wasted. 
Enough,  however,  was  understood  by  me  to  make  the 
exercise  exhilarating,  at  least.  Some  who  could  better 
keep  up  with  her  volubility  kindly  interjected  a  sentence  in 
English,  as  she  paused  to  take  breath  ;  others  made  their 
German  translations  at  the  same  time.  The  Military 
Chapel,  Hall  of  Justice,  Reception  Room,  chambers  of  the 
Duke  and  Duchess  and  the  Chapel  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy, 
with  its  carved  stalls,  were  shown,  and  the  Oubliette,  where 
four  steps  down  through  the  darkness  plunged  the  con- 
demned into  the  depths  of  the  lake,  where  they  could 
"  forget  "  their  sorrow  and  torture  forever.  The  dungeon 
below  the  lake,  where  Bo^ntvard  was  chained  seven  years 
to  a  pillar  ;  the  beam,  blackened  by  time,  from  which  the 
captive  was  hung  by  wrist  or  neck  ;  the  instruments  of 
torture  and  the  shelving  rock  on  which  the  doomed  passed 
their  last  night,  were  shown,  in  turn.  They  awakened  no 
very  pleasant  feelings  towards  tyrants  in  general,  and 
towards  the  House  of  Savoy  in  particular.  It  was  a  relief 
when  we  reached  the  court-yard  again,  and  the  brisk  young 
cicerone  said  "  Cest  ftnV  Yes,  those  days  and  deeds  of 
darkness  are  also  "  finished."  The  iron  age  when  might 
makes  right  is  over,  and  Switzerland  is  free  ! 

"Free  as  the  chamois  on  their  mountain  side! 
Firm  as  the  rocks  which  hem  the  valley  in, 
They  keep  the  faith  for  which  their  fathers  fought. 
They  fear  their  God,  nor  fear  they  aught  beside!  " 

Thousands  visit  this  ancient  castle  every  year,  to  pay  their 


118  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  Prior  of  St.  Victor.  I  no- 
ticed Byron's  name  cut  on  the  stone  piUar  about  which 
this  noble  captive  trod  and  wore  a  path  "  as  if  the  cold 
pavement  were  a  sod."  In  1348  there  were  1200  Jews 
burned  here,  charged  with  a  conspiracy  to  poison  the  public 
fountains  of  Europe.*  A  short  Walk  takes  you  to  Yilie- 
neuve,  built  on  the  ruins  of  a  Roman  town,  where  sarcophagi, 
containing  well-preserved  remains,  have  been  found,  and 
also  medals  and  inscriptions  of  the  second  pentury.  .  The 
archaeologist  as  well  as  the  artist  finds  much  to  engage  his 
attention  about  the  lake.  So  also  the  geologist  and  natural- 
ist. There  are  twenty-one  species  of  fish  in  these  waters 
and  fifty  different  kinds  of  birds  along  the  shores.  A  sixty- 
pound  trout  was  once  sent  as  a  present  to  the  Dutch 
Government. , 

The  study  of  the  trees  is  another  engaging  diversion, 
where  one  tarries  a  few  weeks.  The  pine,  larch  and  fir  are 
found  in  high  altitudes,  the  lime,  yew,  ash,  elm,  chestnut, 
alder  and  holly  on  lower  slopes.  The  fig  and  olive  are 
found  not  far  from  Chillon,  here  and  there  the  pear  and 
pomegranate,  the  plum  and  peach.  The  peasant  of  the 
Rhone  and  Savoy,  says  Yost,  "  exults  in  the  beauty  of  his 
country  and  thinks  that  the  world  can  not  produce  such  an 
assemblage  of  enchanting  scenes."  Of  this  neighborhood 
and  the  Bernese  Oberland  this  enthusiastic  traveler  gives 
glowing  descriptions,  quite  Virgilian  in  flavor,  so  that  one 
sees  the  mountains  and  the  valleys  ;  the  sunny  nook 
enameled  with  bluebell  and  cowslip,  woodbine  and  jas- 
mine ;  the  glittering  glacier  and  the  purple  vineyard,  and 

*  A  pious  prayer,  inscribed  in  1643  above  the  entrance  to  Chillon, 
reads  "  Gott  der  Herr  segne  den  Ein  und  Ausgang" — "May  God 
bless  all  who  come  in  and  go  out."  The  whiteness  of  the  walls  has 
continued  remarkably  these  642  years.  This  is  mainly  owing  to  the 
purity  of  the  air  here,  as  in  Greece  and  Italy,  which  does  not  blacken 
ruins  as  in  England.  "  The  Prisoner  of  Chillon,"  an  imaginary  tale, 
was  written  by  Byron  in  June,  1816,  while  detained  two  days  by 
stormy  weather  at  a  small  tavern  at  Quchy, 


SWITZERLAND.  1 1 9 

hears  the  dash  of  cascades,  the  murmur  of  the  brook,  the 
lowing  of  the  cows  and  the  tinkling  of  their  bells,  the 
stroke  of  the  fisherman's  oar  and  the  vesper  bell  tolling  at 
the  close  of  the  day. 

SWISS    COSTUMES. 

Yost's  pencil  as  well  as  his  pen  pictures  the  hardy- 
mountaineer  with  belt  and  alpenstock,  the  shepherd  with 
his  huge  horn,  the  hay-maker  and  farmer  with  scythe  and 
pail  and  the  milkmaid  with  plaited  petticoat  and  apron  of 
blue  linen,  her  hair — not  falling  straight  down  over  her 
eyes,  as  is  the  idiotic  style  in  some  countries — but  drawn 
back  from  her  shining  brow,  tied  in  light  tresses  and 
crowned  with  a  tasteful  little  velvet  cap.  Some  peasant 
girls  wear  a  scarlet  bodice  bordered  with  black,  a  jaunty 
waistcoat  without  sleeves,  a  short  striped  dress,  and 
flowers  in  their  hair  and  hats.  The  out-door  life  and 
healthful  exercise  of  the  people  promote  longevity.  Yost 
tells  of  a  Swiss  village  on  the  Visp  where  there  were 
several  centenarians  living  at  the  same  time,  one  of  whom 
begun  his  second  century  with  a  third  marriage,  and  in 
due  time  had  a  son  who  was  himself  married  twenty  years 
after. 

BERNESE    OBERLAND. 

For  thirty-three  francs  I  bought  tickets  at  Geneva  of 
Cook,  which  took  me  to  Bern,  Thun,  Interlachen,  Lake 
of*Brienz,  over  the  Brunig  Pass  to  Sarnen  and  Alpnach, 
thence  over  the  lake  to  the  city  of  Lucerne,  about  160 
miles.  The  time  occupied  was  from  Friday  noon  to 
Saturday  night. 

Freiburg,  with  its  bold,  picturesque  scenery,  its  suspen- 
sion bridge,  overhanging  a  deep,  broad  ravine  ;  the  cathe- 
dral, with  its  lofty  tower,  and  the  romantic  environs,  are 
remembered  with  distinctness. 

Bern  is  a  queer,  grotesque  bearish  place,  and  amused  me 
much.  I  wandered  about  the  streets  and  into  the  shops, 
out  to  the  terrace,  over  the  cathedral,  and  up  to  the  top 
of  the  roof,  enjoying  the    afternoon  ramble   exceedingly, 


120  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

buying  here  and  there  souvenirs.  Bears  are  as  plenty 
here  as  watches  are  in  Geneva.  Music-boxes  I  found 
stowed  away  everywhere.  I  sat  down  in  a  chaii',  and  a 
cheerful  melod}^  bade  me  welcome.  Lifting  a  bottle, 
another  lively  strain  started  from  a  concealed  instrument, 
and  seizing  a  cane,  that,  too,  began  a  waltz.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  spirit  of  fun  took  possession  of  almost  everything. 
Even  in  the  carvings  of  the  cathedral  stalls  the  most  ridic- 
ulous figures  were  noticed.  Bruin  was  represented  as 
beating  a  drum  ;  a  man  was  eating  a  lunch  ;  a  carver  was 
at  his  bench,  and  a  woman  at  her  washtub.  Had  these 
figures  been  cut  out  of  a  pine  bench  in  a  Yankee  school- 
house  one  would  not  wonder,  but  to  have  them  put  before 
the  eye  in  a  place  of  worship  is  one  of  the  unexplained 
oddities  of  Bern.  Over  the  central  door  of  the  cathedral 
are  innumerable  figures  carved  to  represent  the  infernal 
regions,  not  an  appetizing  thing  to  meet  the  eye  entering 
church,  and  hardly  in  keeping  with  the  Scripture,  "  Thou 
shall  call  thy  walls  salvation  and  thy  gates  praise."  A 
statue  of  Moses,  with  horns,  stood  outside. 

ALPINE    GLORIES. 

The  panorama  of  the  Alps  spread  out  before  me  as  I 
walked  by  the  sycamore  shade  on  the  high  promenade 
overlooking  the  Aare  was  the  most  satisfactory  thing  to 
carry  away  from  Bern.  The  afternoon  shadows  were 
lengthening,  and  the  glow  of  those  countless  snowy  peaks, 
from  6000  to  13,000  feet  high  in  the  blue  heavens,  is  some- 
thing not  easily  described.  As  we  rode  that  evening 
towards  Thun  we  had  the  sight  of  a  gorgeous  sunset, 
followed  by  a  Nacbgliihen,  or  after-glow,  which  was  one  of 
remarkable  beauty,  as  H.,  an  American  resident,  familiar 
with  Switzerland,  informed  me. 

Thun  was  founded  in  1320  by  two  counts.  One  mur- 
dered the  other,  and  the  blood-stains,  like  those  of  Rizzio 
of  Holyrood,  have  long  been  preserved  in  town  for  the 
delectation  of  tourists  and  enrichment  of  showmen.     Yost, 


SWITZERLAND.  121 

who  spent  seven  years  near  here,  describes  the  scenery  with 
rather  moi'e  fullness  and  ardor  than  Livy,  or  Csesar  in  his 
Commentaries,  and  compares  the  Lake  of  Thun  in  size  to 
Windermere,  while  in  beauty,  he  says,  it  is  incomparable, 
"A  most  splendid  view  of  mountains,  groves, .orchards, 
villages,  churches,  castles  and  villas  ;  fruit  trees  with  a 
thousand  ambrosial  sweets  ;  yellow  sheaves  of  corn  bend- 
ing to  the  sparkling  boughs,  blended  with  orange,  pink  and 
purple,  the  meadows  enlivened  with  sheep."  All  these 
were  shut  out,  not  only  by  night,  but  by  a  sudden  thunder- 
storm. As  we  crossed  the  lake  we  had  the  novelty  and 
excitement  of  the  tempest  and  the  blinding  lightning.  I 
would  not  go  below,  but,  shielded  by  my  rubber  coat,  kept 
on  deck,  gazing  into  the  inky  sky  and  on  the  peaks  which 
for  an  instant  shone  out  as  flash  succeeded  flash,  leaving 
us  in  darkness  that  could  be  almost  felt.  The  pilot  knew 
the  way.  The  ten  miles  were  soon  passed.  Landing  at 
Darligen  we  were  soon  brought  to 

INTERLAKEN. 

We  found  shelter  in  Hotel  Unterseen.  This  town,  "  be- 
tween the  Lakes,"  is  a  bright,  busy  place,  through  which 
some  30,000  tourists  pass  every  summer.  It  is  surrounded 
by  the  gleaming  Alps,  the  black  Faulhorn,  the  scraggy 
Stockhorn,  the  pyramidal  Niesen  and  Jungfrau,  "  Queen 
of  the  Bernese  Oberland "  ;  threaded  by  the  Aare  and 
beautified  by  shady  avenues,  imposing  hotels,  and  an  ele- 
gant park.  Swiss  shops,  quaint  old  mills,  inns  and  board- 
ing houses  attract  the  eye  ;  the  Kursaal  with  its  music, 
balls  and  banquets  ;  excursions  to  the  pine  woods,  old 
castles  or  churches,  also  serve  to  occupy  the  leisure  of 
those  who  tarry  here  ;  Lauterbrunnen  and  Grindelwald  ai'e 
easily  reached. 

Byron  laid  the  scene  of  "Manfred"  at  the  castle  Un- 
spunnen.  He  compares  the  Staubbach  to  the  tail  of  a 
white  horse  streaming  in  the  wind,  nine  hundred  feet  long. 

Mrs.  Stowe  says  "the  waterfall  is  very  sublime,  all  but 


122  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

the  water  and  the  fall  !  "  Coming  in  the  dry  season  the 
visitor  is  apt  to  be  disappointed..  I  did  not  risk  it,  hut 
pushed  on  to  see  the  Giessbach,  still  higher,  1148  feet,  and 
broken  by  seven  cascades.  These  were  fuller  after  the 
copious  rain  of  the  previous  night,  and  poured  down  into 
the  Lake  of  Brienz  through  dense,  dark  masses  of  fir-trees, 
leaping  from  ridge  to  ridge  and  spanned  by  rustic  bridges. 
Rainbow  hues  by  day  and  the  glow  of  Bengal  lights  at 
night  are  added  attractions.  Only  an  hour  is  required  to 
cross  the  little  lake.  There  is  much  to  engage  the  thought 
besides  the  scenery  as  one  floats  serenely  over  Swiss 
waters. 

ANCIENT   LAE:E   DWELLERS. 

Recent  researches  have  brought  to  light  a  vast  amount 
of  entertaining  as  well  as  suggestive  knowledge  of  the 
ancient  lake  dwellers  of  Western  Switzerland.  In  place  of 
the  palatial  hotels  that  now  open  their  doors  to  the 
strangers,  there  were  huts  of  clay  filled  into  wooden  walls, 
and  roofed  with  rushes.  These  houses  were  built  on  piles 
of  oak  and  fir,  the  lower  ends  of  which  were  pointed  by 
some  edged  instrument.  Under  beds  of  peat,  of  three 
distinct  layers,  have  been  found  the  implements  and  uten- 
sils of  the  stone  age  ;  also  relics  that  indicate  the  food 
eaten — cereals,  venison  and  fish  ;  the  clothing  worn,  and 
many  other  things.  This  was  before  the  age  of  iron  or  of 
bronze,  and  some  scholars  believe  these  are  vestiges  of  a 
civilization  6000  years  old.  Morges  on  Lake  Leman,  Marin 
on  Lake  Neuchatel,  Nidan  on  Lake  Bienne  and  Meilen  at 
Zurich  are  notable  illustrations  of  this  prehistoric  life. 
Herodotus  wrote,  B.C.  400,  of  lake  dwellers  in  another 
land,  "who  dwelt  on  platforms  made  on  tall  piles,  which 
stand  in  the  middle  of  the  lake,  approached  from  the  land 
by  a  narrow  bridge.  Each  has  his  hut.  They  feed  their 
horses  and  other  beasts  on  fish."  Why  this  isolation  was 
sought  is  not  clear.  Perhaps  because  of  the  exemption  it 
secured  from  wild  beasts  or  reptiles,  possibly  because  of 


8  WITZERLAND.  1 2  3 

the  peril  of  flood  and  avalanche,  to  which  the  dwellers  in 
the  close  and  narrow  valleys  are  exposed. 

That  these  clay  and  thatched  habitations  were  burned 
when  the  tribe  or  clan  migrated,  is  proved  alike  from 
old  Helvetian  history,  as  when  Caesar  compelled  the  people 
to  return  and  build  their  villages,  and  from  the  appearance 
of  the  charred  piles  discovered.  At  Marin  fifty  iron  sword- 
blades  were  found,  highly  ornamented,  and  scabbards  of 
bronze,  wholly  unlike  the  Roman  or  Celtic  swords.  Oswald 
Hare  thinks  that  they  may  date  as  far  back  as  one  or  two 
thousand  years  before  Christ. 

You  notice  the  marl  accumulated  along  the  banks  of  this 
lake.  In  1834,  thirty  acres  were  devastated  by  a  land- 
slide. Two  villages  were  nearly  destroyed  in  1797,  and 
Kienholz  was  swept  away  by  a  similar  catastrophe  in  1499. 
I  had  a  chance  to  see  something  of  the  valley  further  on  in 
which  Goldau  was  swallowed  up.  It  was  called  the  Para- 
dise of  Switzerland.  It  was  nine  miles  long,  and  abounded 
in  exquisite  beauty  and  fertility. 

DESTRUCTION    OF   GOLDAU. 

On  the  morning  of  September  2,  1806,  the  shepherds 
were  startled  by  a  convulsion  on  the  summit  of  Rosenberg. 
They  saw  at  noon  smoke  and  blue  flames.  At  5  p.m.  all 
was  quiet.  Before  6  p.m.  not  a  house  or  tree  remained  in 
sight  in  the  valley  below.  A  solitary  cottage  stood  on  the 
top  of  Rosenberg,  occupied  by  a  woodcutter  and  his  fam- 
ily. Early  in  the  day  they  were  terrified  by  the  internal 
agitations  of  the  mountain.  The  father  went  for  the  min- 
ister to  exorcise  what  was  regarded  a  demon.  Before  his 
return  the  stones  began  to  move,  and  the  wife,  with  a  new- 
born babe  in  arms,  rushed  out  just  in  time  to  save  herself 
as  the  ground  parted.  Their  home  was  swallowed 
up  in  the  torrent  of  stones  which  was  precipitated  into  the 
valley,  burying  churches,  convents  and  houses,  and  driving 
the  waters  of  Lake  Lowertz  2200  feet  from  its  borders. 
A  party  of  tourists  were  near  the  bridge  of  Goldau,    One 


124  OUT-BOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

lady  affirmed  that  the  forest  was  moving  towards  them, 
and  was  laughed  at  as  deluded.  Had  they  stopped  they 
would  all  have  been  saved.  The  ladies  advanced  for  a  few 
minutes  longer,  when  the  avalanche  fell  and  swept  them 
away.  Their  companions,  a  little  way  in  the  rear,  escaped. 
There  were  457  who  perished. 

Ebel,  whose  account  is  given  in  "  Manuel  du  Voyageur 
en  Suisse,"  says  that  the  two  months  previous  had  been 
extraordinarily  rainy,  and  that  for  two  days  the  water 
came  down  in  torrents.  Four  villages  were  buried  more 
than  a  hundred  feet  deep  by  this  slide,  which  in  five  min- 
utes changed  a  Paradise  into  a  frightful  desert.  John 
Neal,  of  Portland,  Me.,  wrote  a  thrilling  poem  on  this 
tragedy,  entitled  "  Lament  of  a  Swiss  Minstrel  over  the 
ruins  of  Goldau." 

"  Slowly  it  came  in  its  mountain  wrath, 
And  the  forests  vanished  before  its  path  ! 
And  the  rude  cliffs  bowed,  and  the  waters  fled, 
And  the  living  were  buried,  while  over  their  head 
They  heard  the  full  march  of  their  foe  as  he  sped  ; 
And  the  valley  of  life  was  the  tomb  of  the  dead  ! " 

OVER    THE    BRfJNIG    PASS    TO    LUCERNE. 

Like  Noah's  Ark,  a  Swiss  diligence  is  "  full  of  living 
creatures,"  with  a  dozen  or  more  on  top  usually.  These 
chance  companions  were  agreeable,  and  four  hours  were 
spent  in  a  mountain  ride  over  a  smooth,  solid  road,  amid  de- 
lightful scenery.  The  summit  of  the  pass  is  only  3648  feet 
high,  and  so  the  view  of  Meiringen,  its  bright,  verdant 
surroundings,  the  Reichenbach  Falls,  and  the  glories  of  the 
Grimsel  are  better  enjoyed  than  at  a  higher  altitude.  The 
Grimsel  is  the  boundary  between  the  Papal  and  Protestant 
cantons,  and  the  people  of  the  former  are  not  blind  to  the 
contrast.  Sismondi  once  said,  as  he  interlaced  his  fingers, 
"We  have  cantons  whose  frontiers  interlock  with  each 
other  as  do  my  fingers,  and  you  need  not  to  be  told 
whether  you  are  in  a  Protestant  or  a  Catholic  canton  ;  a 
glance  suffices  to  show  you." 


SWITZERLAND.  125 

Rochette,  a  zealous  Romanist,  is  quoted  by  Dr.  Samuel 
Manning,  in  his  "Swiss  Pictures,"  as  saying  :  "The 
Catholics  have  generally  continued  to  he  shepherds,  while 
the  Protestants  have  turned  their  attention  to  trade  or 
manufactures.  The  poverty  of  the  former  contrasts  with 
the  affluence  of  the  latter,  so  that,  at  first  sight,  it  would 
seem  to  be  better  to  live  in  this  world  with  Protestants 
than  Catholics  ;  but  there  is  another  world  in  which  this 
inferiority  is  probably  compensated."  A  comforting 
hypothesis. 

The  air  was  refreshingly  cool  as  we  descended  into  the 
Forest  Cantons,  and  sweet  with  the  perfume  of  new-mown 
hay.  Peasant-girls  brought  us  milk,  raspberries,  black- 
berries, and  cherries.  The  half-francs  they  get  for  their 
baskets  of  berries  during  the  short  summer-time  bring 
many  a  comfort  to  their  humble  homes,  for  the  winters  are 
long.  From  October  to  May  the  flocks  and  cattle  share 
their  rude  shelter.  When  the  snows  have  melted,  and  the 
swallow,  cuckoo,  and  primrose — prophets  of  the  spring — 
appear,  and  the  grass  shoots  up  again  in  the  pasture-lands, 
the  villagers  gather  in  holiday  dress,  gay  with  flowers  and 
ribbons.  They  receive  a  pastor's  benediction.  A  band  of 
music  often  precedes  them.  Says  an  eye-witness  :  "  The 
cattle,  who  seem  perfectly  to  understand  what  is  going 
forward,  appear  almost  frantic  with  joy  at  being  released 
from  their  long  imprisonment,  and  the  procession  moves 
upward  to  the  high  pasture-ground  on  the  mountain-side, 
often  a  distance  of  several  miles  from  the  village.  On 
reaching  the  ground  the  cattle,  each  bearing  a  bell,  range 
at  will  over  the  flowery  and  fragrant  turf.  The  herdsmen 
take-  up  their  abode  for  the  summer  in  the  mountain 
chalets,  while  their  wives  and  families  generally  remain 
below.  The  cattle  are  driven  in  twice  or  thrice  a  day  to  be 
milked.  The  processes  of  milking  and  cheese-making  con- 
tinue, almost  without  interruption,  all  the  summer."  The 
bell  is  regarded  by  the  cow  as  a  badge  of  adoption  and 
approval,  its  removal  as  a  punishment.     Without  it  the 


126  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

cow  is  sulky  and  gloomy.  On  one  occasion,  described  by 
Latrobe,  a  fine  animal  had  not  received  her  bell  when  the 
procession  moved.  She  walked  a  little  way,  and  lay  down 
as  if  in  a  fainting  fit.  Several  opinions  were  broached,  and 
remedies  suggested.  As  old  herdsman  settled  the  matter 
by  going  back  and  getting  her  bell  and  collar,  "  which  the 
animal  no  sooner  felt  about  her  neck  than  she  got  up,  shook 
herself,  crooked  her  tail  over  her  haunches  in  token  of 
complete  satisfaction,  went  off  prancing,  kicking,  and  cur- 
veting with  every  appearance  of  gayety." 

A  ludicrous  figure  is  sometimes  seen,  a  Homo  caudatus. 
The  cowherd  seems  to  have  a  stout,  stiff  tail  projecting  a 
foot  or  less  from  his  underpinning.  This,  however,  is 
merely  a  one-legged  stool  strapped  around  his  broadest 
part,  so  that  he  has  one  hand  free  to  steady  himself  amid 
the  ups  and  downs  of  his  zigzag  way,  while  the  other  holds 
the  bucket  of  milk.  The  land  is  measured  by  the  number 
of  cows  pastured.  Thirty-five  would  yield  about  146 
crowns  (IllO),  according  to  Latrobe. 

The  valley  of  Nidwalden,  backed  by  Pilatus,  and  the 
Lungern  See  for  a  foreground,  is  called  "  one  of  the  most 
delicious  scenes  in  Switzerland."  We  stopped  in  several 
villages  to  exchange  the  mails,  and  saw  busy  and  cheerful 
communities.  The  hermitage  of  Nicholas,  opposite  Sarnen, 
is  visited  by  many  relic  hunters,  who  have  carried  off 
fragments  of  the  stone  which  the  saint  used  as  his  pillow. 
Tradition  says  that  he  took  no  food  for  twenty  years 
except  the  monthly  Eucharist.  He  was  an  ardent  patriot 
and  a  wise  counselor.  At  Alpnach  we  see  a  modern 
church,  with  a  slender  spire  built  with  timber  brought  from 
the  forest  of  Pilatus,  till  latterly  inaccessible,  A  scene  m 
this  church  is  described  by  Charles  J,  Latrobe,  in  his 
"  Alpenstock,"  as  follows  :  "  It  had  been  a  high  day  for  the 
Virgin.  Her  effigy,  in  the  form  of  a  doll,  had  been 
brought  forth,  placed  upon  a  movable  stand,  and  evidently 
carried  about  in  procession.  It  appeared  that  her  day  was 
at  an  end,  for  the  sacristan  advanced  unceremoniously  up 


SWITZERLAND.  Ill 

to  the  figure,  unstrapped  her  from  her  pedestal,  and  inserted 
his  hand  between  her  shoes — one  of  which  I  had  seen  a 
woman  kiss  a  few  moments  before — unscrewed  a  peg  which 
kept  her  upright,  let  her  fall  on  his  shoulder,  and  carried 
her  out  of  the  church  into  the  vestry  ;  so  that  the  figure 
which  was  one  moment  deified  and  prayed  and  hymned  to, 
and  not  approached  without  reverence,  even  by  the  con- 
secrated priest,  was  the  next  taken  on  the  back  of  the 
unsanctified  valet,  and  shut  up  in  a  dark  box."  This  is  a 
good  commentary  on  Isaiah  xlvi.  :  7,  "They  bear  him 
upon  the  shoulders,  they  carry  him  and  set  him  in  his 
place,"  etc. 

A  spout  for  timber  eight  miles  long  was  here  made  out 
of  30,000  trees.  From  a  height  of  2500  feet  down  to  the 
water's  edge  the  rudely-dressed  logs  shot  down  through 
the  trough  in  six  minutes.  Professor  Playfair  says  that 
they  shot  by  like  lightning,  with  a  roar  like  thunder.  This 
slide  was  used  1811-1819,  and  since  1733  a  cart  road  has 
been  used.  Napoleon's  shipyards  were  supplied  from  this 
mountain. 

The  castle  of  Rotzberg  is  remarkable  as  being  the  first 
capture  of  Austrian  strongholds  which  the  Swiss  confeder- 
ates made.  It  was  New  Year's  Day,  1308.  There  was  a 
fair  maiden  named  Anneli  in  the  castle.  Her  accepted 
lover,  Jageli,  was  admitted  to  a  midnight  interview,  and 
managed  to  have  a  score  of  his  Swiss  countrymen  use  the 
same  ladder.  They  surprised  the  garrison,  and  this  capture 
was  followed  by  a  successful  overthrow  of  the  Austrian 
power  in  other  parts  of  Switzerland.  The  names  of  these 
two  lovers,  it  is  said,  have  ever  since  been  celebrated  in 
patriotic  song. 

LUCERNE. 

As  we  embarked  at  Stansstad,  and  crossed  to  Lucerne, 
the  daylight  waned,  and  the  moon  rose  over  the  lake.  The 
barren  slopes  of  Pilatus  wore  a  deeper  hue,  and  distant  Righi, 
with  its  wooded  belt,  grew  dimmer  in  the  eastern  sky.  The 
lights  of  the  city  and  along  the  quays  were  reflected  in  the 


128  OUT-BOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

water  as  we  came  near  ;  the  sound  of  music  and  the  roll  of 
carriages  through  the  busy  streets  reminded  us  that  our 
day  of  rural  quiet  was  over.  We  were  in  the  pleasant  city 
of  Lucerne  (Lighthouse).  Its  picturesque  walls,  watch- 
towers,  and  bridges  at  once  attract  the  visitor's  attention. 
Its  Arsenal  has  battle-flags  and  other  trophies,  the  Town 
Hall  fine  carved  work,  and  the  churches  a  few  monuments 
and  paintings  of  merit.  The  "  Dance  of  Death,"  already 
referred  to,  decorates  the  Sprener  Briicke.  Other  pictures 
on  the  bridges  represent  national  events.  The  broad  eaves 
make  a  shady  lounging-place,  and  the  swift,  blue  waters  of 
the  Reuss,  clear  as  crystal  and  cold  as  ice,  give  a  refresh- 
ment to  the  eye  on  a  warm  summer  afternoon. 

I  also  sat  with  satisfaction  before  Thorwaldsen's  "  Lion 
of  Lucerne,"  Avhich  commemorates  the  valor  of  the  Swiss 
Guard,  786  of  whom  fell,  August  10,  1792,  in  defending  the 
royal  family  of  Louis  XVI.  of  France  from  a  revolutionary 
mob.  The  posture  of  the  colossal  body  tying  across  the 
shield,  marked  with  theflenr  de  lis  /  the  broken  spear  ;  the 
prone,  outstretched  paw,  and  the  wonderful  expression  of 
almost  human  feeling  put  into  the  face  are  most  pathetically 
significant.  Mr.  Ball  speaks  of  it  as  "  perhaps  the  most 
appropriate  and  touching  monument  in  existence."  It 
would  be  impressive  even  in  a  cathedral,  but  it  is  more  so 
outdoors  in  a  sequestered  nook,  cut  from  the  solid  rock, 
with  trickling  rills  dripping  from  its  mossy  edges,  and 
forming  a  dark,  crystal  pool,  in  which  the  lion  is  reflected  ; 
with  seats  arranged  before  it,  indicative  of  leisurely,  silent, 
and  careful  inspection.  The  figure  is  28  feet  by  18,  and 
was  executed  by  Ahorn,  a  sculptor  of  Constance,  after  the 
design  of  the  great  Danish  artist.  Sitting  under  the  shade 
of  maple  and  pine,  you  read  the  inscription  to  those  "  Qui 
ne  sacrementi  fidem  fallerent " — but  gave  their  blood  to 
defend  the  Bourbon  lily  from  the  Revolutionists.  For 
years  a  survivor  of  that  heroic  band  used  to  stand  here  in 
his  patched  red,  rusty  uniform,  a  guard  of  the  grotto  and  a 
o-uide  to  the  visitor, 


SWITZERLAND.  129 

SUNDAY     SCENES. 

The  Sabbath  spent  in  Lucerne  remains  one  of  the  pleas- 
antest  in  memory  of  any  ever  spent  abroad.  The  weather 
was  perfect,  the  natural  surroundings  uplifting  and  inspir- 
ing ;  the  social  greetings  of  friends  from  over  the  sea, 
unexpectedly  met  at  church,  and  the  religious  privileges, 
with  quiet  retirement  between  services,  contributed  to 
make  the  day  one  of  restful  peace,  doubly  enjoyed  after 
rapid  and  exacting  travel.  The  novelty  of  the  English 
service  consisted  in  this,  that  it  was  held  in  a  Romish  church, 
and  followed  in  immediate  connection  with  Romish  wor- 
ship. The  air  was  thick  with  incense  as  the  Protestants 
entered  and  took  the  seats  just  vacated  by  the  Papists 
The  sacristan  veiled  the  high  altar  with  a  crimson  curtain  ; 
a  monk,  with  woollen  cowl  and  scapular,  and  with  knotted 
rope  about  his  waist,  bowed  to  the  Virgin's  figure,  turned 
on  his  heel,  and  left  by  one  aisle  ;  the  modest  Scotch  pas- 
tor, Rev.  James  Stuart,  of  Edinburgh,  walked  up  the  other  ; 
the  same  servitor  that  had  kindly  hidden  the  images  and 
candles  from  our  eyes  now  distributed  hymn-books.  Later 
in  the  service  he  took  the  offerings  for  Protestant  wor- 
ship. The  great  organ  was  silent.  Without  instrument 
or  choir  to  lead  us,  tuneful  voices  lifted  Dundee,  St.  Mar- 
tin's, and  other  melodies  familiar  to  English  ears  all  over 
the  globe.  The  canton  owns  the  edifice,  and  toleration  is 
granted  to  those  whose  services  present  antipodal  con- 
tests. A  son  of  Dr.  Deems,  of  New  York,  preached  in 
the  evening.  Looking  at  the  preachers,  who  exalted  the 
grace  of  God  as  the  sinner's  only  hope,  I  saw,  through  the 
lingering  smoke  of  "  another  altar,,'  the  glittering  capitals 
conspicuous  behind  them,  "  Hilf,  Maria,  Hilf  !  " — "  Help 
Mary,  help  !  "  May  God  hasten  the  day  when  the  invoca- 
tion of  Mary  shall  give  place  to  the  worship  of  Mary's 
God,  and  all  the  temples  raised  to  her  homage  shall  be 
transformed  into  the  sanctuaries  of  intelligent,  spiritual 
worshipers. 


130  OUT-BOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

LAKE    OF    THE    FOUR     CANTONS. 

Pilatus  had  not  doffed  his  night-cap  ;  the  fashionable 
world  of  the  gay  summer  rendezvous,  Lucerne,  bad  not 
waked  ;  a  soft,  dreamful  light  bathed  the  beautiful  bay- 
before  our  windows,  as  the  sharp  call  of  the  steamer's  bell 
bade  us  hasten  aboard.  We  pushed  out  from  the  amphi- 
theater of  hills  before  the  sun  appeared  in  the  cloudless 
heavens.  With  each  paddle-stroke  the  panorama  opened 
new  beauties  of  sky  and  water,  of  mountain  and  valley. 
Engaging  as  are  the  charms  of  Geneva's  lake,  there  are  many 
who  prefer  Lucerne's  still  bolder  scenery.  The  four  forest 
cantons  are  Lucerne,  Uri,  Schwytz  and  Unterwalden. 
They  enclose  the  lake  in  the  shape  of  St.  Andrew's  Cross. 
It  is  about  25  miles  to  Fluelen,  though  at  least  90  around 
the  shore  of  the  lake.  As  these  primitive  cantons  were  the 
cradle  of  the  Helvetic  Confederacy,  this  lake  has  long  been 
regarded  a  sanctuary  of  liberty,  which  trained,  as  Rogers 

says, 

' '  A  band  of  small  republics  there 
Which  still  exists,  the  envy  of  the  world  ! 
Each  cliff  and  headland  and  green  promontory 
Graven  with  the  records  of  the  past.  .    .    . 
That  sacred  lake  withdrawn  among  the  hills, 
Its  depths  of  waters  flank'd  as  with  a  wall, 
Built  by  the  giant-race  before  the  flood, 
"Where  not  a  cross  or  chapel  but  inspires 
Holy  delight,  lifting  our  thoughts  to  God 
From  Godlike  men." 

Not  withstanding  "historic  doubts"  expressed  about 
William  Tell,  as  about  William  Shakespeare,  Napoleon, 
Homer,  Arnold  von  Winkelried,  Mrs.  Partington,  and 
other  celebrities,  we — that  is,  tourists — agree  to  drop  doubt- 
ful disputations  and  believe  everything  of  legendary  lore 
connected  with  this  and  other  classic  places.  We  shall 
thus  avoid  a  deal  of  unpleasant  controversy  and  irrelevant 
conversation,  such  as  Mr.  Mark  Twain  and  other  "Inno- 
cents Abroad  "  had  with  the  Genoese  guide  in  reference  to 
"  Christopher  Colombo  on  a  bust." 


SWITZERLAND.  131 

The  first  object  that  riveted  my  eye  as  we  were  well  out 
on  the  lake  was  the  naked  peak  of  Pilatus,  which  draws  to 
it  the  clouds  from  north  and  west,  and  labors  under  a  bad 
reputation.  There  hovers  the  unquiet  spirit  of  the  Roman 
Procurator,  who  was  banished  to  Gaul  by  Tiberias,  and  like 
other  wandering  Jews  found  no  rest.  From  this  summit 
come  down  almost  all  the  wrathful  storms  that  vex  the 
peaceful  waters.  The  government  of  Lucerne  forbade, 
till  recent  times,  the  ascent  of  the  mountain,  because  it  was 
believed  that  intrusion  into  the  dark  domain  of  the  suicide, 
or  even  the  dropping  of  a  stone  into  the  pool  on  the  top, 
where  the  sunken  body  lay,  would  rouse  a  tempest  in  the 
cantons.  Even  Conrad  Gessner,  the  naturalist,  had  to  get 
a  special  permit  from  the  city  fathers  in  order  to  visit  the 
place. 

The  summit  is  7116  feet  high.  It  caught  the  sunlight 
rays  before  we  on  the  lake  had  seen  the  sun.  Then  we 
watched  peak  after  peak  grow  bright  and  the  shadows  on 
the  waters  soften  ;  smoke  from  the  wooded  shores  where 
villages  nestle  and  rural  sounds  are  heard,  like  tinkling  goat 
bells  or  goatherd's  horn  ;  looked  at  the  stir  and  bustle 
which  our  landings  made  at  Hertenstien  and  Weggis,.and  as 
Vitznau's  tapering  tower  appeared,  we  changed  our  plan 
of  going  through  to  Fluelen,  and  determined  to  make   the 

ASCENT  OF  THE    KIGHI 

at  once,  while  yet  the  glory  of  early  day  could  be  enjoyed. 
We  landed.  Forty  of  us  seated  ourselves,  at  6  a.m.,  in 
the  sloping  car  which  is  pushed  up,  after  the  Yankee  plan, 
long  ago  introduced  in. the  ascent  of  Mt.  Washington. 
The  height  of  Righi  Kulm  (summit)  is  not  quite  6000  feet. 
The  road  is  seven  kilometers  long,  about  four  miles,  and 
the  time  occupied  in  the  ascent  was  about  an  hour,  includ- 
ing stops.  There  are  those  who  think  the  pleasure  of  the 
excursion  is  thus  "  vulgarized,"  and  prefer  to  take  a  sweat 
in  clambering  up  on  foot.  Two  thousand  in  a  day,  how- 
ever, have  taken  the  railway.     It  certainly  saves  time,  and 


132  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

as  for  views,  one  can  hardly  ask  for  lovelier  ones  than  those 
along  the  railway.  Alpine  meadows  are  scattered  among 
the  wild  rocks,  and  their  bright  green  sward  shaded  by  the 
fir,  the  slender  beech,  or  gnarled  chestnut.  Towards  the 
top  the  trees  disappear,  but  the  grass  continues  all  the  way, 
the  clover,  daisy  and  dandelion  also.  The  fantastic  shapes 
and  movements  of  clouds  and  shadows,  colored  by  the 
changing  light,  made  a  mosaic,  as  it  were,  of  the  bosom  of 
the  lakes  below. 

When  we  reached  the  summit  I  saw  scattered  here  and 
there,  like  bread  crumbs,  white  chapels,  hamlets,  and  towns 
in  every  direction  ;  eleven  lakes,  several  cities,  wild  forests, 
and  woodlands  ;  while  southerly  opened  a  panorama  of 
Alpine  mountains  and  glaciers  of  bewildering  beauty,  which 
Latrobe  well  says  "  defies  all  description,  and  which  a  man 
may  deem  himself  favored  to  have  been  permitted  to 
behold."  It  is  a  view,  says  Cheever,  "which  to  behold, 
one  may  well  undertake  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic,  a 
glory  and  a  beauty  indescribable  and  nowhere  else  to  be 
enjoyed.  When  the  sun  rose  so  high  that  the  Avhole  masses 
of  snow  upon  the  mountain  ranges  were  lighted  by  the  same 
rosy  light,  it  grew  rapidly  fainter  till  you  could  no  longer 
distinguish  the  deep,  exquisite  pink  and  rosy  hues  by  means 
of  their  precious  contrast  with  the  cold  white.  Next  the 
sun's  rays  fell  upon  the  bare  rocky  peaks  where  there  was 
neither  snow  nor  vegetation,  making  them  shine  like  jasper, 
and  next  on  the  forests  and  soft  grassy  slopes,  and  so  down 
into  the  deep  bosom  of  the  vales.  The  pyramidal  shadow 
cast  by  the  Righi  was  most  distinct  and  beautiful,  but  the 
atmospheric  phenomena  of  the  Specter  of  the  Righi  was 
not  visible."  This  occurs  when  the  vapors  of  the  valley 
rise  perpendicularly  under  the  mountain  opposite  the 
sun  without  enveloping  the  summit  itself.  Shadows 
of  the  Kulm  and  of  those  standing  there  are  cast  in 
magnified  proportion  on  the  phantom  screen,  encircled 
by  one  or  two  halos,  bright  with  the  colors  of  the  rain- 
bow.    Possibly    in    such    awe-inspiring   exhibitions   amid 


SWITZERLAND.  133 

the  hills  of    God,  Goethe   thought  out  in  his   Ganymede 

the  lines  : 

"  The  clouds  are  hovering 
Downward.     The  clouds,  they 

Condescend  to  passionate  yearning,. 

Embraced  and  embracing, 
Up  !  up  to  thy  bosom, 

All  Loving  Father  ! " 

Palatial  hotels  are  here,  with  too  much  of  the  puerilities 
and  indulgences  of  fashionable  folly,  profaning,  as  Ruskin 
has  somewhere  said,  these  "cathedrals  of  earth  built  with 
their  gates  of  rock,  pavements  of  cloud,  choirs  of  stream 
and  stone,  altars  of  snow  and  vaults  of  purple." 

The  view  from  Righi  embraces  a  circumference  of  three 
hundred  miles.  On  the  east  and  south,  Baedecker  counts 
132  peaks,  of  which  the  highest  is  Finsteraarh,  13,160  feet 
high  ;  Jungfrau,  Monck  Schreckhorner  and  Eiger  being 
almost  as  high.  As  the  distance  the  eye  travels  is  only 
twenty  to  thirty  miles,  the  prospect  is  more  satisfactory 
than  when  the  altitude  of  the  beholder  and  remoteness  of 
objects  confuse  the  vision.  A  telescope  at  the  Kulni  also 
reveals  still  more  details.  Familiarity  with  history,  how- 
ever, is  better  to  a  traveler  than  opera-glasses  and  tele- 
scopes. 

Look.  Exactly  opposite  is  the  mountain  from  which  fell 
the  immense  slide  that  entombed  Goldau.  See  the  memorial 
church,  standing  over  the  buried  dead.  Next  week  the 
annual  commemorative  service  is  held  there.  There  is  the 
spire  of  Cappel  where  the  great  Zwingle  fell  in  battle, 
October  12,  1531.  You  remember  how  that  Luther  quar- 
reled with  Zwingle  about  his  view  of  the  Eucharist  and 
made  a  parody  of  the  first  verse  of  the  first  Psalm, 
"Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of  the 
Zwinglians."  Both  did  a  glorious  service,  however,  in  the 
cause  of  libert}r.  Zwingle  fell  in  battle  pierced  with  150 
wounds.  The  body  lay  all  night  on  yonder  field.  It  was 
then  formally  tried  and  condemned  for  treason,  and  sen- 
tenced to  be  quartered. 


134  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

For  heresy  it  was  burned.  The  ashes  were  mingled  with 
the  ashes  of  swine,  and  the  furious  mob  then  flung  them  to 
the  winds  of  heaven.  By  the  banks  of  that  little  lake  of 
Egeri  was  the  battle  and  the  victory  of  Morgarten.*  There 
is  the  opening  of  a  valley  where  Suwarrow  and  Massena 
fought,  even  where  chamois  hunter  had  hardly  dared  to 
tread.  Fifteen  miles  westward  you  see  Sempach,  in  con- 
nection with  which  another  of  the  "  Golden  Deeds "  of 
Swiss  heroes  is  remembered.  The  banner  of  Lucerne  was 
almost  in  the  grasp  of  Austrian  spearmen.  Arnold  von 
Winkelried  shouted,  "  I  will  open  a  passage."  He  swept 
ten  spears  within  his  grasp  and  bowed  down  among  them 
like  a  tree,  as  Montgomery  has  it.  So  Switzerland  again 
was  free,  "Thus  death  made  way  for  liberty  !  " 

Down  the  lake  from  Vitznau  to  Brummen,  the  port  of 
Schwytz,  and  to  Fluelen,  the  port  of  Uri,  occupied  a  few 
hours  longer,  and  opened  to  thought  and  vision  the  scenery 
associated  with  William  Tell.  A  new  edifice  is  going  up 
at  the  place  where  the  patriot  is  said  to  have  leaped  out  of 
Gessler's  boat.  A  pyramidal  rock  on  the  opposite  shore 
bears  in  conspicuous  gilt  letters  the  name  of  Schiller.  The 
springs  of  the  Butli,  near  by,  are  the  birthplace  of  the  Con- 
federation, for  here  met  one  November  midnight  in  the  14th 

*  This  was  the  first  in  the  ancient  struggle  of  the  Swiss  for  liberty. 
Duke  Leopold  had  the  flower  of  Austrian  chivalry.  The  Swiss  knelt 
In  prayer  by  the  lake,  and  asked  God's  blessing  on  the  day.  The 
enemy  numbered  20,000,  the  patriots  1300.  Yet  they  refused  the  aid 
of  fifty  exiled  brothers  who  begged  that  they  might  cross  the  border 
und  assist.  Though  repulsed,  they  hovered  near,  and  Avhen  they  saw 
the  common  enemy  enter  the  defile  they  rolled  down  an  avalanche  of 
rocks  and  tree  trunks  and  crushed  the  cavalry,  which,  with  the  valiant 
attack  of  the  1300,  soon  turned  the  tide  of  victory.  The  rout  was 
complete,  the  carnage  terrible,  and  the  lake  crowded  with  the  Austrian 
dead.  Before  evening  the  victors  knelt  again  in  thanksgiving,  then 
received  back  the  banished,  whose  bravery  had  atoned  for  their 
offenses,  and  set  apart  the  day  as  one  of  annual  prayer  and  thanks 
giving.  It  was  continued  through  centuries  until  a  late  period. — Vide 
Mutter's  Schweitzergeschichte,  and  Planta's  Helv.  Confederacy. 


SWITZERLAND.  135 

century  three  mountaineers  and  bound  themselves  together 
by  oaths  of  fidelity.  As  at  the  martyrdom  of  Paul,  three 
fountains  gushed  up  on  the  spot.  The  following  New 
Year's  the  fortress  of  Rotsberg  was  taken,  as  already  nar- 
rated, and  this  was  followed  by  the  speedy  overthrow  of 
Austrian  rule. 

Fluelen  is  our  last  landing-place.  The  crippled,  goitred 
inhabitants  show  the  prevalence  of  malaria.  Cretinism,  or 
idiocy,  is  occasionally  seen.  A  little  way  from  here  is 
Altorf.  There  you  are  shown  the  spot  where  the  Ducal 
hat  of  Austria  was  displayed,  before  which  Tell  would  not 
uncover,  and  where  the  lime-tree  stood  for  centuries  under 
which  his  son  was  placed  with  the  apple  on  his  head  ;  also 
the  river  bank  by  which  Tell  lost  his  life  in  trying  to  save 
a  child,  during  an  inundation  of  the  valley.  The  whole 
neighborhood  is  rich  in  historic  romance.  The  fuller  one's 
memory  is,  the  more  intense  the  pleasure  of  travel  through 
Switzerland.  What  Hillard  says  of  Italy  is  true  of  other 
places  of  foreign  travel,  "  one  who  is  ignorant  is  a  blind 
man  in  a  picture-gallery.  Every  scrap  of  knowledge  tells. 
Every  hour  spent  in  previous  preparation  brings  its  recom- 
pense of  reward." 

GENEVA  TO  CHAMBEEY. 

The  sunset  glowed  on  the  peaks  of  the  Jura  as  we  rap- 
idly passed  down  along  the  winding  Rhone  towards  the 
boundary  of  France.  Two  weeks  remained  for  Italy.  I 
had  forgotten  my  Italian,  and  I  knew  that  the  purchase  of 
railway  tickets  is  one  of  the  principal  annoyances  that  a 
foreigner  suffers  when  unacquainted  with  the  language 
spoken.  Knowing  also  that  only  paper  money  was  in  use 
in  Italy,  I  bought  at  Geneva  another  "  Cook-book "  of 
coupons  for  159  francs — about  $30 — good  to  Turin  by  Mont 
Cenis  Tunnel,  thence  to  Genoa,  Pisa,  Rome  and  Naples  ;  to 
Florence,  Bologna,  Venice,  Verona,  Milan,  and  back  to 
Turin,  good  for  sixty  days.  Travel  by  night  saves  a  great 
deal  of  time,  and  one  avoids  the  heat  and  dust  of  day  travel 
in  hot  weather,  particularly  felt  in  southern  climates.     But 


138  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

the  evils  outbalance  tlie  advantages,  and  I  have  uniformly 
avoided  this  exhausting  way  of  journeying.  One  whose  eye 
and  mind  are  taxed  during  the  day  should  secure  regular 
and  ample  sleep  every  night.  To  say  nothing  of  malarial 
influences,  weariness,  and  other  evils  connected  with  night 
travel,  the  loss  of  the  scenery  of  countries  which  one  visits, 
at  great  expense,  is  no  small  consideration.  It  may  be  said 
that  most  Americans  get  little  good  from  their  rapid  excur- 
sions through  Europe.  It  is  true.  But  when  one  has 
studiously  prepared  himself  to  see  people  and  places,  and, 
having  seen,  can  take  away  picture  and  photograph,  such 
as  are  often  furnished  on  the  spot,  he  does  not  care  to  tarry 
long.  He  carries  home  definite  impressions.  He  can  renew 
and  deepen  them  at  any  time.  They  are  permanent,  endur- 
ing possessions. 

THE    RHONE    VALLEY. 

The  route  on  which  we  now  are  started  begins,  as  do 
some  sermons,  with  what  is  regarded  a  prosy  introduction. 
To  me,  however,  the  ride  was  exhilarating  through  the 
defiles  between  Savoy  and  Jura ;  along  castle-crowned 
declivities,  bald  and  snowy  peaks,  scarred  by  avalanches 
and  here  and  there  marked  by  a  large  shining  cross  ;  over 
high  viaducts  and  by  the  edge  of  lofty  embankments, 
walled  up  by  solid  masonry,  along  the  edge  of  which  you 
look  down  into  the  foaming  waters  of  the  rushing  Rhone ; 
through  dark  tunnels,  and  out  again  suddenly  in  full  view 
of  some  ancient,  drowsy-looking  town,  beneath  the  eye, 
with  its  street  scenes,  its  railway  station,  and  its  rural  sur- 
roundings unrolled  in  a  swift  panorama.  By  taking  the 
express  train  one  is  carried  through  all  these  places  without 
detention. 

At  Bellegarde,  French  officers  of  customs  examined  our 
luggage.  At  Culoz  we  waited  ninety  minutes  at  the  base 
of  the  Colombier,  4700  feet  high,  near  the  Castle  Chatillon 
and  Lake  Bourget,  twelve  miles  long.  Aix-les-Bains  was 
next  reached,  an  old  Roman  watering-place  with  sulphur 
springs  which  annually  attract  several  thousand  patients 


SWITZERLAND.  137 

who  drink  and  bathe  in  these  waters.  Remains  of  ancient 
baths,  a  Doric  arch,  an  Ionic  temple  of  Venus,  a  Cistertian 
monastery  founded  1125,  a  precipice  by  the  lake  where 
Lamartine  was  inspired  to  write  his  "  Le  Lac,"  and  the  path- 
way over  which  Hannibal  is  supposed  to  have  led- his  sol- 
diers— these  are  some  of  the  attractions  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

A  FRENCH  TOWN. 

I  spent  a  night  and  a  part  of  the  following  day  at  Cham- 
bery.  A  French  inn  furnished  me  comfortable  quarters. 
It  was  built  of  stone,  but  with  outside  entries  or  platforms 
for  the  upper  stories,  like  some  American  tenement  houses. 
The  windows  of  my  chambers  opened  eastward  towards  the 
frontiers  of  Savoy.  I  can  never  forget  how  the  country 
was  flooded  with  golden  glory  as  I  arose,  rather  tardy,  but 
not  to  late  too  enjoy  an  excellent  breakfast  brought  to  me  in 
the  salle  d  manger;  nor  the  pleasant  ramble  about  town  that 
followed  my  morning  meal  ;  the  loud  and  joyous  chiming 
of  the  cathedral  bells,  as  if  for  some  festival  ;  the  broad  Rue 
de  Boigne  and  the  book-stalls  of  old  Latin,  French,  and  Eng- 
lish literature  which  took  my  attention  quite  as  long  as  did 
the  famous  fountain  opposite  ;  the  shops  and  the  people, 
women  carrying  heavy  burdens,  or  strapped  by  leathern 
yoke  to  a  wheelbarrow  like  a  horse  in  harness — these  and 
other  pictures  caught,  kept,  and  carried  away  without  be- 
coming impedimenta  on  a  rapid  but  remunerative  journey. 

The  habit  of  lively  movement,  keen  observation,  and 
memorizing  details  is  one  that  can  be  cultivated  to  a  mar- 
velous extent.  It  doubles  the  pleasure  of  sight-seeing. 
But  one  should  eliminate,  so  that  he  may  not  be  cumbered 
with  mere  rubbish,  as  one  who  should  attempt  to  master 
the  entire  contents  of  a  newpaper.  The  "  survival  of  the 
fittest "  is  all  we  want. 

TAKING   THINGS    EAST. 

When  I  entered  the  station,  the  Turin  train  had  not 
arrived.     A  black  nun,  with  chain,  cross  and,  rosary,  her 


138  OUT-BOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

face  unveiled,  was  chatting  with  other  girls,  like  herself,  in 
their  teens.  Another  lady,  well  dressed,  and  evidently  used 
to  travel,  determined,  like  the  pickpocket,  to  "  take  things 
easy,  "  had  stretched  out  on  one  of  the  broad  lounging-seats, 
with  head  and  shoulders  reposing  on  a  pile  of  luggage,  not 
exactly  the  "  big  bag,  little  bag,  band-box,  bundle,"  of  those 
who  are  unacquainted  with  the  necessities  of  migratory  life, 
but  a  pile  of  sensible  wraps  and  other  things  which  experience 
shows  to  be  indispensable.  By  the  way,  the  heat  and  gnats 
of  Italy,  as  well  as  its  extortion,  are  to  be  provided  against. 
Camphor  is  good  for  the  bites  ;  a  few  grains  of  quinine  will 
serve  as  a  prophylactic  against  malaria  ;  but  for  beggars  and 
extortioners  I  know  of  no  more  potent  remedy  than  that  by 
which  I  saw  a  reverend  D.D.  relieved  of  menclicancs"*in 
Ireland.  Close  your  eye  and  point  to  your  ear,  and  march 
right  along.  No  one  would  think  of  talking  to  a  deaf  man. 
Casuists  will  differ  as  to  the  morality  of  the  deception. 

MONT    CENIS. 

Here  we  are  at  Modane,  where  the  last  scene  of  Sterne's 
"  Sentimental  Journey  "  is  laid,  but  where  we  enter  on  the 
first  scene  of  journey  through  Italy,. namely,  Mt.  Cenis  tun- 
nel. This  is  seven  miles  and  a  half  long,  cut  through  Le 
Grand  Vallon,  a  mountain  9600  feet  high,  and  finished  on 
Christmas,  1870.  We  were  twenty-three  minutes  going 
through.  There  are  no  perpendicular  shafts,  yet  there  is 
no  lack  of  air,  although  it  was  prophesied  that  men  would 
either  be  stifled  with  gas  or  roasted  with  heat.  The  expense 
of  the  undertaking  about  equals  that  of  Brooklyn  bridge, 
fifteen  million  dollars.  Hundreds  of  lives  were  lost.  Mont 
Cenis,  which  gives  its  name  to  the  tunnel,  is  nearly  twenty 
miles  away.  The  valley  of  the  Arc  is  on  the  Savoy  side, 
and  that  of  the  Dora  on  the  Piedmontesc.  Fourteen  years 
in  all  were  spent  in  the  work.  Indeed,  it  grewto  be  a  de- 
cided bore,  and  some  felt  as  that  Massachusetts  man  did 
who  heard  Loammi  Baldwin's  enthusiastic  advocacy  of 
Hoosac  Tunnel  while  yet  on  paper.     Pointing  to  a  map 


ITALY.  139 

Mr.  B.  exclaimed,  "Why,  sir  !  it  seems  as  if  the  very  finger 
of  Providence  itself  had  pointed  ont  this  way  from  east  to 
west."  It  was  answered  that  it  might  possibty  be,  but  if 
so,  "  it  was  a  pity  that  the  finger  hadn't  pushed  a  hole  through 
Hoosac  Mountain."  The  "  finger  "  used  on  this  tunnel  was 
a  steel  drill,  and  can  be  still  seen  in  Turin. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


ARRIVAL   AT   TURIN". 


It  was  evening  when,  alighting  from  the  train,  I  found 
myself  in  the  busy,  brilliant  Corso  at  Turin.  Everybody 
seemed  to  be  out-doors,  enjoying  a  cool,  clear  starlight  night, 
after  a  warm  August  day.  As  I  took  my  tea,  the  singing 
of  a  trio  of  well-trained  voices  opposite  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. Their  tones  were  loud,  and  full  of  passionate  ex- 
pression. Crossing  the  boulevard,  I  saw  that  it  was  an 
opera  bouffe.  The  platform  was  in  front  of  a  hotel,  with 
a  stage  door  in  the  rear  and  an  orchestra  in  front.  Tables 
for  perhaps  a  hundred  were  ranged  around,  it  where  ices  and 
wines  were  served.  The  music  and  singing  seemed  to  hold 
the  attention,  and  heavy  applause  was  given  to  the  perfor- 
mance, when  was  really  meritorious,  both  in  the  vocal  and 
dramatic  features.  It  was  not  hard  to  understand  from  the 
movements  of  the  leading  singer,  a  fine  baritone,  and  the 
soprano,  that  the  intrusive  tenor  was  making  love  to  the 
lady,  which  action  excited  the  ire  of  No.  1.  Coming  away 
as  soon  as  my  ice-cream  had  disappeared,  I  never  heard  how 
the  affair  was  settled.  Further  along  the  avenue  there  was 
another  similar  entertainment.  The  pleasure-loving  Italians 
of  this  old  Sardinian  city  are  very  like  those  of  Alfieri's  day. 
Better  than  a  guide  book  is  his  autobiography.  The  re- 
miniscences of  Silvio  Pellico  and  Alfieri  make  this  city  more 
interesting  to  a  scholar  than  all  the  pictures  and  popish  relics 


140  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

within  its  walls.  When  but  nine  years  of  age,  Alfieri  came 
hither,  entering  Porta  Nuova  at  noon,  be  writes,  of  "  a  glori- 
ous day.  All  seemed  so  grand  and  beautiful,  I  went  almost 
crazy  with  excitement.  "  His  academy  life  is  minutely  de- 
scribed ;  his  barter  of  Sunday  delicacies  for  the  works  of 
Ariosto  ;  his  sound  naps,  wrapped  in  a  cloak,  while  the 
professor  lectured  in  Latin  ;  his  fit  of  study,  when  he  de- 
voured thirty-six  volumes  of  Ecclesiastical  History,  and 
then  read  over  and  over  again  the  "Arabian  Nights";  his 
prodigality  and  dissipation  at  sixteen,  when  with  embroi- 
dered dress  and  span  of  horses  he  drove  about  Turin  like  a 
young  prince — all  these,  remembered,  give  an  interest  to 
the  city  which  mere  museums  can  not  yield.  In  going  to 
Genoa,  we  passed  through  his  birthplace,  Asti,  also  neat 
the  battle-ground  of  Marengo. 

GENOA    AND    PISA. 

When  something  of  Alfieri's  exuberance  of  feeling  at  his 
first  sight  of  the  sea  at  Genoa,  did  I  for  the  first  time  behold 
the  Mediterranean,  the  "great  sea"  that  Moses  wrote  of, 
whose  waters  have  been  plowed  by  ships  of  Tarshish  and 
the  iron-beaked  galleys  of  Rome  ;  the  shores  of  which  have 
witnessed  the  missionary  journey  of  Paul,  the  ancient  Cru- 
sades, the  eager  rivalries  of  Venetian,  Pisan,  and  Genoese 
commerce,  and  from  the  dajTs  of  Columbus  to  those  of 
Napoleon  and  Emmanuel  have  been  associated  with  most 
stiring  events  of  history.  "  I  never  could  satisfy  myself 
with  gazing  on  it,  "  writes  Alfieri.  "  The  magnificent  and 
picturesque  site  of  that  superb  city,  Genoa,  "  inflamed  his 
fancy  and  awakened  the  most,  delightful  associations. 

The  social  jealousies  among  Italian  cities  have  nowhere 
been  more  marked  than  at  Genoa.  The  Tuscan  proverb 
shows  this:  "  Genoa  has  a  sea  without  fish,  mountains  with- 
out trees,  men  without  honor,  and  women  without  modesty." 
This  feeling,  however,  is  passing  away.  The  beauty  of  its 
situation  gives  to  Genoa  the  epithet  of  La  superba.  Seen  . 
from  the  fortified  hills  that  surround  it,  or  from  the  high 


ITALY.  141 

dome  of  S.  Maria  di  Carignano,  or  from  the  light-house, 
488  feet  high,  the  view  rivals  that  of  Naples.  The  hun- 
dred marble  palaces  of  Genoese  nobles,  with  their  orange- 
groves  and  fountains  ;  the  churches,  fortifications,  monu- 
ments and  arcades  ;  the  castles  on  the  shore  ;  the  ships  in 
the  harbor  at  your  feet  ;  the  picturesque  promontory  that 
pushes  out  into  the  blue  Mediterranean,  and  distant  Corsica 
seen  in  fair  weather,  a  hundred  miles  away,  are  some  of 
the  objects  that  charm  the  eye. 

I  first  visited  the  principal  promenade,  Acqua  Sola,  high 
up  like  the  Pincian  Hill,  and  enjoyed  the  shady  magnolia 
and  oleander,  the  gushing  fountain,  the  sunset  view  of  the 
summer  sea,  and  the  happy  gatherings  there  at  that  leisure 
hour,  chatting  awhile  with  a  young  Genoese  lad  who  had 
been  some  years  a  student  in  New  Orleans  and  had  returned 
awhile  to  perfect  himself  in  Italian.  Columbus  was  born 
a  few  miles  away  from  Genoa,  at  Cogoleto,  but  the  grand 
statue  of  white  marble,  erected  in  1862  to  his  honor,  stands 
in  the  square  opposite  the  railway  station.  While  the  bulk 
of  the  streets  are  narrow  and  winding,  there  is  one,  Strade 
Balbi,  which  is  not  surpassed  in  Europe.  The  drive  along 
the  sea  is  also  called  the  most  picturesque  highway  on  the 
Continent.  But  the  glowing  descriptions  of  Rogers,  of 
Hare,  of  Tuckerman,  render  scenic  details  needless. 

.      STREET    SCEXES. 

The  street  scenes  are  a  study.  You  see  the  swarthy,  sun- 
burnt faces  of  mariners  and  peasants  ;  the  fair  patrician 
ladies  yet  of  Spanish  cast,  wearing  French  hats,  or  grace- 
ful veils  ;  the  priest  and  friar,  sometimes  portly  and  well 
clad,  sometimes  barefooted  and  dirty,  girdled  with  rope  and 
decked  with  beads  and  crucifix  ;  swarms  of  half -naked  chil- 
dren that  sadly  need  immersion  in  the  sea  to  cleanse  them 
from  filth  and  vermin  ;  and  busy  artisans  and  market- 
women.  Here,  under  fig  or  olive,  you  may  see  the  parrots 
placed,  while  the  oleander  grove  furnishes  shade  for  a  cafe 
outdoors.     Not  a  meal  I  did  take-in  doors.     Under  one  of 


142  OUT-DOOM  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

the  porticos  facing  the  grand  monument  to  Columbus  I  had 
nry  lunches  of  fruits,  ices,  or  whatever  was  ordered,  and  then 
at  its  close  the  use  of  a  hue  upright  pianoforte,  which  stood 
there  by  the  wide  entrance,  for  the  pleasure  of  any  who 
wished  music  with  meals'.  The  absorbing  interest  of  Ital- 
ians in  music  is  illustrated  by  a  ghastly  tale  told  by  Headley, 
of  a  man  who,  while  Clara  Novello  was  singing  in  the  opera, 
was  stricken  by  deatb  immediately  before  her.  It  was  at  a 
climax  of  the  play.  The  moaning,  struggling,  suffering  vic- 
tim turned  his  livid  face  on  the  prima  donna,  and  she  gave 
a  tragic  start.  The  song  was  about  to  cease,  but  the  singer 
heard  the  shout  to  "go  on  !  "  and  went  on.  The  convul- 
sions threw  the  man  bolt  upright,  while  foam  and  blood 
oozed  from  his  quivering  lips.  A  seatmate  held  him  down 
and  the  trumpets  drowned  his  last  breath.  At  the  close 
of  the  play,  while  this  man  who  had  held  clown  the  dying 
was  shouting  his  "  brava,  brava  !  "  the  police  approached 
and  removed  the  body.  Music  had  had  the  same  engross- 
ing interest  to  the  audience  that  the  gambler's  game  used 
to  have  at  Baden-Baden. 

The  shops  of  the  jewelers  and  the  artisans  are  interesting. 
Labor  seemed  cheap.  Wishing  my  pocket-scissors  ground, 
I  stepped  into  a  craftsman's  abode  whose  machinery  was 
seen  in  motion  from  the  street  door.  He  took  them  apart, 
put  them  to  one  flying  wheel  after  another,  ground  and 
burnished  and  riveted  them  together  with  deft  fingers,  and 
charged  but  four  cents  for  the  job. 

As  to  sleeping  in  Genoa,  it  is  about  as  precarious  an  un- 
dertaking as  at  Naples.  I  did  little  of  it.  The  rumble  and 
hissing  of  locomotives,  the  noises  of  the  streets,  and  the  in- 
cessant jabbering  of  the  gossipers  abroad,  made  a  bedlam 
of  the  place. 

The  next  day's  ride  was  a  fatiguing  one,  partly  on  account 
of  the  heat  and  gnats  and  loss  of  sleep,  but  also  on  account 
of  the  eighty  tunnels,  more  or  fewer,  that  continually  tried 
our  neiwes.  The  rate  of  speed  was  higher  than  we  ex- 
pected to  find  in  Italy,  and  for  thirty-nine  miles  we  make 


ITALY.  143 

no  stop.  The  eye  would  just  get  comfortably  fixed  on  a 
beautiful  villa,  surrounded  by  lemon  groves,  or  a  castle,  or 
cathedral,  and  then,  quick  as  a  wink,  the  dazzling  day  was 
turned  to  midnight.  Then  a  brief  flash  of  daylisdit  and 
another  dark  hole.  The  English-speaking  tourists  about  me 
"made  light"  of  it  as  well  as  they  could,  but  all  agreed 
that  there  was  more  dark  than  day  ;  that  we  must  be  in  the 
Ho-ly  Land  ;  that  the  ride  had  got  to  be  a  continual  bore. 
Bat  the  whole  of  it  was  passed  at  length.  The  cool  even- 
ing breezes  off  the  sea  fanned  our  cheeks  as  we  neared  Pisa, 
and  restored  our  good-nature.  At  one  place  we  were  greatly 
deceived.  What  some  were  sure  were  snow-crowned  hills 
turned  out  to  be  the  fine  debris  of  Carrara  marble  quarries. 
The  captivity  of  Garibaldi  is  recalled  as  you  look  on  the 
fortress  of  Spezzia.  The  place  is  now  a  favorite  resort  for 
sea-bathing. 

Two  nights  at  Pisa  only  strengthened  disgust  of  Italian 
street  life,  at  least  as  seen  during  the  hours  commonly  given 
to  repose.  The  summer  evening  dissipations  continue  till 
near  midnight.  When  the  shout  of  the  orange  seller  ceases, 
and  the  jingle  of  drinking-glasses  is  still,  then  other  and 
unearthly  sounds  oftentimes  follow.  Once  a  street  fight 
appeared  to  be  in  progress,  and  a  drunken  fellow  was  about 
to  be  dragged  away  by  a  companion  or  by  the  gendarmes. 
Such  crying,  and  pleading,  and  yelling — all  in  Italian,  of 
course — I  never  heard  before  or  want  to  hear  again.  This 
was  in  the  first  large  square  after  leaving  the  station,  where 
several  hotels  are  located.  Quieter  quarters  are  usually 
found  at  a  distance.  At  Naples  I  went  more  than  three 
miles  away,  and  there,  as  at  Rome,  found  comparative  quiet. 

A  SUNDAY  AT  PISA. 

Knowing  of  no  Protestant  worship  at  Pisa,  I  went  Sunday 
morning  to  the  Duomo.  It  is  a  good  place  in  which  to 
think.  The  droning  priest  need  not  disturb  your  reveries, 
and  the  long  past  of  Pisa  comes  to  your  mind  as  you  sit  a 
little  aside  from  the  groups  of  whispering  sight-seers  that 
are  flitting  about  from  altar,  to  altar  and  picture  to  picture, 


144  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

Baedecker  in  hand,  and  who  dodge  out  the  door  as  wise  as 
they  entered,  satisfied  to  have  "  done  "  the  Duomo.  Wait 
a  while.  You  are  in  one  of  the  oldest  cities  of  Europe.  It 
has  a  life  of  thirty  centuries.  Pelasgian  Etruscans  gave 
culture  to  Rome  ages  ago,  and  wandering  Greeks  from  Elis, 
it  is  said,  came  hither  with  Nestor  and  founded  this  place. 
Long  "before  Christ  it  was  a  Roman  colony.  For  the  first 
crusade  Pisa  equipped  one  hundred  and  twenty  ships.  Her 
banners  waved  victorious  over  Sardinia,  Corsica,  Palermo, 
and  the  Balearic  Isles.  This  cathedral  was  built,  1063,  to 
commemorate  a  naval  victory  over  the  Saracens.  In  art 
and  science,  painting  and  sculpture,  Pisa  had  few  equals. 
At  her  university  gathered  distinguished  scholars.  Yonder 
bronze  lamp  reminds  you  of  the  illustrious  Galileo,  professor 
of  mathematics  here,  who  in  1582  saw  the  theory  of  the 
pendulum  in  those  oscillations.  Many  of  these  sixty-eight 
columns  represent  the  spoils  of  ancient  temples,  Roman  and 
Greek,  not  to  add  one  from  Solomon's  Temple,  as  has  been 
reported  by  somebody  determined  to  make  a  large  story. 
Fifty-three  shiploads  of  soil  from  Calvary  make  a  resting- 
place  outside  for  the  honored  dead.  The  marks  of  the 
genius  of  Angelo,  Giotto,  and  other  painters  and  sculptors, 
adorn  this  sanctuary.  Stained  window  and  bronze  door, 
jeweled  altar  and  long-drawn  aisle,  nave  and  transept  are 
rich  with  decorations. 

But  we  cannot  tarry  long.  Again  into  the  hot  atmos- 
phere outside  we  go,  crossing  the  pavement  to  the  cloistered 
cemetery,  and,  on  our  way  back  to  the  hotel,  looking  at  the 
baptistry  adjoining  Campo  Santo.  Its  clustered  columns 
and  arches  are  a  medley  of  Gothic  and  Corinthian  art.  The 
verger  is  just  starting  the  melodious  echoes  that  for  cen- 
turies have  haunted  the  double  dome.  These  echoes  vanish 
as  we  hark  and  hear  them, 

"  Thin  and  clear, 
And  thinner,  clearer,  farther  going  ! 
Our  echoes  roll  from  soul  to  soul, 
And  grow  forever  and  forever  1 " 


ITALY.  145 

That  architectural  marvel,  the  Leaning  Tower,  had  less 
of  a  pitch  than  the  pictures  have  sometimes  given  it.  Its 
pui'e  white  marble  galleries  rise  in  the  blue  sky  with  airy- 
grace  to  the  height  of  180  feet.  The  common  opinion  is 
that  the  spongy  soil  is  the  cause  of  the  slant.  Hillard  says 
that  to  one  who  has  examined  the  spot  there  is  no  room  for 
argument  or  doubt. 

From  Pisa  to  Rome  is  a  distance  of  221  miles.  We  left 
just  as  the  sun  rose  over  the  Apennines,  and  reached  the 
end  of  our  journey  in  eight  hours,  the  city  towards  which 
through  months  of  travel  my  eyes  had  been  ever  turning. 
In  seeing  the  seven-hilled  city  the  interest  of  the  tour  cul- 
minated. All  before  this  had  been  preliminary,  and  all 
that  followed  was  supplementary.  Nor  was  it  the  Rome 
of  the  Popes  I  sought,  but  the  Rome  of  the  Caesars.  Grand 
indeed  I  expected  to  find  St.  Peter's,  with  its  multitudinous 
treasures  of  modern  art,  but  the  Coliseum,  "  the  monarch 
of  all  European  ruins,"  possessed  far  more  attractiveness 
for  me.  It  was  old  Rome  I  came  to  visit,  the  Rome  that 
had  lived  in  school-boy  imagination,  the  city  where  Au- 
gustus ruled  and  Cicero  dwelt.  I  was  eager  to  see  not  so 
much  her  Madonnas  and  frescoes  and  medieval  relics,  as  the 
crumbling  memorials  of  her  ancient  grandeur,  and  there  to 
reflect  on  the  imperishable  influence  of  that  august  power 
which  has  shaped  the  language,  the  literature  and  civiliza- 
tion of  the  race. 

ROME    AND    THE    ROMANS. 

Modern  travel  in  Italy  is  a  process  of  disenchantment. 
You  have  pictured  to  yourself  an  ancient  city  like  Rome 
clothed  with  solitary  and  romantic  desolation.  Stillness 
and  beauty  attend  its  decay.  Fancy  has  draped  every 
ruin  with  ivy  and  mosses.  Nothing  is  to  be  heard  but  the 
hoot  of  the  owl  or  the  silent  tread  of  the  passer-by.  You 
have  imagined  herds  of  cattle  browsing  on  the  3rielding  turf, 
and  everything  in  the  neighborhood  in  keeping  with  the 
solemn  scene.  But  you  enter  the  city  through  an  elegant 
railway    station,  and   find  yourself,  as    in    England   and 


146  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

America,  beset  with  clamorous  coachmen.  One  of  them 
drives  you  through  noisy  streets  to  a  fine  hotel,  where  you 
have  a  room  with  the  modern  conveniences,  including  the 
electric  wire  to  call  boots,  chambermaid,  or  porter.  You 
walk  or  ride  about  the  city,  which  you  have  clothed  with 
fancy's  brilliant  hues.  But  you  find  a  pig-sty  in  a  Roman 
palace,  and  a  cobbler-shop  in  a  temple  of  Augustus.  Filth 
and  squalor,  beggars  and  thieves  are  on  every  hand.  The 
poetry  changes  to  prose,  the  dream  to  stern  reality.  Not 
that  there  is  no  room  for  sentiment  or  enthusiasm;  there  is, 
but  much  of  the  glamour  fades  and  the  illusory  coloring 
disappears.  Forewarned  of  this,  one  may  escape  some- 
thing of  disappointment. 

The  weather  was  hot  at  mid-day,  but  not  more  so  than  at 
New  York.  An  umbrella  should  be  used  if  one  is  exposed 
to  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun,  and  sudden  extremes  of  temper- 
ature avoided,  such  as  are  met  with  while  visiting  galleries 
or  churches,  where  the  air  is  much  cooler  than  outdoors. 
Rome  abounds  with  fountains  of  pure  water,  of  which 
I  drank  freely.  Nowhere  abroad,  excepting  once  in 
Paris,  did  I  experience  harm  from  the  constant  use 
of  this  beverage.  The  notion  that  one  must  use  intoxi- 
cating liquors  as  a  guard  against  illness  on  sea  or  land, 
is  merest  moonshine,  as  shown  by  innumerable  testi- 
monies. 

THE    COLISEUM  AND   FORUM. 

First  of  all  to  these,  accompanied  by  an  American  clergy- 
man, I  ordered  our  driver  to  proceed.  The  hour  was  favor- 
able, for  the  glare  of  the  day  was  past.  The  sunset  glow 
wras  fading  from  the  Alban  mountains  ;  the  shadows  began 
to  deepen  under  the  gray  arches  of  the  silent  Tibei',  and 
the  soft  blue  of  the  heavens,  in  which  tower  and  dome  and 
column  stood  in  clear  outline,  formed  a  beautifully  trans- 
parent medium.  Then  along  the  Appian  Way  there  came 
a  gentle  evening  breeze  which,  if  not  a  friendly,  healthful 
visitant,  brought  a  grateful  relief  to  the  noontide  heat  from 


ITALY.  147 

which  we  had  been  hiding  several  hours  in  our  comfortable 
quarters  at  Piazza  di  Spagna. 

What  a  world  of  history  is  here  !  "  Troja  fuit "  we  were 
taught  in  early  life,  and  here  the  fitting  inscription  for 
every  wall  and  arch  and  ivy-crowned  ruin  is  "  It  was." 
The  reach  and  the  significance  of  this  history  held  us  as 
with  a  spell. 

"  The  Niobe  of  nations  !  there  she  stands, 

Childless  and  crownless,  in  her  voiceless  woe  ; 
A  nempty  urn  within  her  withered  hands, 

Whose  holy  dust  was  scattered  long  ago. 
The  Goth,  the  Christian,  Time,  War,  Flood  and  Fire 

Have  dwelt  upon  the  seven-hilled  city's  pride. 
She  saw  her  glories,  star  by  star,  expire, 

And  up  the  steep,  barbarian  monarch  ride 
Where  the  car  climbed  the  Capitol. 

Alas  !  the  lofty  city  !  and  alas 
The  trebly  hundred  triumphs  !  and  the  day 

When  Brutus  made  the  dagger's  edge  surpass 
The  conqueror's  sword  in  bearing  fame  away  ! 

Alas  for  Tully's  voice  and  Virgil's  lay, 
And  Livy's  pictured  page  !  " 

We  looked  with  eagerness,  but  our  thoughts  were  too  deep 
for  connected  speech.  This  little  space  within  the  Esqui- 
line,  the  Palatine  and  Capitoline  is  the  scene  of  Roman 
history  from  Romulus  to  Constantine.  Here  are  the  pre- 
cincts of  that  temple  whose  law  has  shaped  the  destinies  of 
nations.  It  is  peopled,  to  our  imagination,  even  now  with 
spiritual  existences  that  yet  rule  us  in  the  realm  of  thought 
with  a  more  potent  power  than  when  they  dwelt  in  the 
flesh. 

It  was  while  that  cultured  critic  Horace  Wallace  was 
writing  his  monograph,  "The  Roman  Forum,"  that  the 
darkness  of  death  fell  on  his  eyes.  He  soon  after  died, 
but  those  lines  will  live  which  so  eloquently  described  the 
emotions  of  a  Christian  scholar  at  Rome.*     The  tremulous 

*  "  Art,  Scenery,  and  Philosophy  in  Europe,"  by  Horace  Binney 
Wallace,  Esq.     Philadelphia:  1855. 


148  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

handwriting  indicates  that  the  words  were  penned  with 
difficulty  and  pain,  and  the  abruptness  with  which  they 
close  adds  expressiveness  to  the  thoughts  which  they  truth- 
fully express.  Rome,  he  says,  "  is  the  magnetic  'pole  of 
our  moral  sensibilities.  In  all  other  places  they  tremble 
toward  it,  in  it  they  become  riveted  to  the  soil."  Her  gal- 
leries, he  says,  are  stored  with  countless  treasures,  yet  so 
far  are  they  from  constituting  the  secret  of  Rome's  attrac- 
tion, that  we  view  even  the  Apollo  with  an  imperfect 
enthusiasm.  The  landscape  has  peculiar  beauties,  yet  the 
chief  interest  arises  from  the  reflection  that  we  are  looking 
upon  the  country  of  Rome.  Gorgeous  are  the  ceremonials 
of  her  Church,  yet  their  chief  interest  arises  from  the  back- 
ground against  which  they  are  viewed.  The  visible  city, 
splendid  as  much  of  it  is  to  the  eye  and  taste,  lapses  into 
nothingness  before  Rome  of  the  mind,  over  which  hang  as 
an  electric  cloud  thrilling  memories  of  the  days  when  Rome 
was  the  lawgiver  of  the  nations,  inventress  of  arts,  source 
of  that  social  wisdom  which  is  civil  power,  and  was  girt 
with  a  divinity  invisible  to  the  frivolous  but  irresistible  to 
the  thoughtful  mind.  Silent  and  deserted  is  the  Forum, 
"  trodden  only  by  the  steps  of  peasants  as  they  loiter  from 
their  toils,  or  of  monks  as  they  cross  it  to  their  evening 
chants.  Yet  with  spiritual  tenants  how  thronged,  how 
glittering  is  the  place  !  To  the  intellect  how  intense,  how 
vital  the  influences  of  the  spot !  " 

There  stood  the  Capitol.  There  was  the  daily  meeting- 
place  of  the  Senate  of  Rome,  the  patricians  of  earth. 
From  those  councils  went  forth  protection  to  oppressed 
right,  punishment  to  lawless  violence  throughout  the  globe, 
till  Rome  became  the  tribunal  of  States,  the  conscience  of 
the  world.  The  Palatine  on  the  left  was  the  original  city 
of  Romulus,  the  scene  of  those  Livian  legends  which  Beauty 
will  still  preserve,  though  Truth  abandon  them.  On  the 
right  is  the  Esquiline,  where  were  the  residences  of  Maecenas, 
Horace,  and  Virgil,  and  at  its  base  the  site  of  that  temple 
in  which  Cicero  revealed  to  the  senators  the  conspiracy  of 


ITALY.  149 

Catiline,  and  there  the  uncovered  stones  of  the  Via  Sacra 
once  swept  by  conquerors  in  triumph.  "  Here  was  the  cradle 
of  all  civilized  polity,  the  nursery  where  grew  those  forms  of 
state  which  are  yet  the  unshaken  deities  of  the  mortal 
scene,  whose  empire  is  deep  as  our  nature  and  continuing 
as  our  race."  These  thoughts  fitly  express  the  emotions  of 
a  thoughtful  visitor  to  this  center  of  Imperial  Rome. 

FLAVIAN    AMPHITHEATRE. 

Then  there  is  the  other  -great  standing  memorial,  not 
only  of  Roman  power,but  of  the  faith  of  the  early  martyrs, 
the  Flavian  Amphitheatre.  Bishop  Kip  well  terms  it  "  the 
noblest  remnant  of  old  Rome  ";  the  spot  where  multitudes 
poured  out  their  blood  to  bequeath  a  pure  faith  to  us,  and 
taught  their  pagan  persecutors  how  a  Christian  could  die  ! 
Thousands  of  captive  Jews  were  employed  in  building  it 
just  after  Jerusalem  was  destroyed.  It  seated  100,000  peo- 
ple. Five  thousand  beasts  were  slain  in  the  dedicatory 
games,  and  thousands  of  human  lives  were  sacrificed  down 
to  the  days  of  Honorius,  a.d.  395.  Then  there  came  from 
the  East  a  monk,  Telemachus,  to  protest  against  the  bar- 
barism. In  the  excess  of  his  zeal,  he  sprang  into  the  arena 
to  separate  the  combatants,  but,  according  to  Theodoret, 
was  torn  in  pieces  by  the  maddened  spectators.  His  death, 
however,  made  so  deep  an  impression  that  an  imperial  edict 
was  issued  prohibiting  these  public  butcheries.  It  is  said 
that  19,000  were  murdered  in  a  single  entertainment  before 
Nero. 

The  story  of  Felicitas,  the  noble  Roman  matron  who  was 
slain  with  the  same  sword  that  slew  her  sons,  seven  of 
whom  fell  martyrs  to  Christ ;  of  Perpetua,  another  mother, 
who  was  deaf  to  the  entreaties  of  an  aged  pagan  father  ; 
and  of  that  other  Felicitas,  who  was,  with  her  unborn  child, 
sentenced  to  die  in  the  arena — these  and  other  thrilling 
reminiscences  crowd  upon  the  mind  as  you  walk  under 
these  crumbling  arches.  Making  all  needful  abatement  for 
the   illusions  of  history?  the   romantic    fabrications   and, 


150  OUTDOOR  LIFE  M  EUROPE. 

exaggerations  common  to  all  ages  ;  dividing,  as  Las  been 
suggested,  the  great  array  of  martyrs  slain  in  the  Coliseum 
by  twenty-five,  or  by  fifty  even,  still  this  sacred  spot  re- 
mains, as  Dickens  well  says,  "  the  most  impressive,  stately, 
solemn,  grand,  majestic,  mournful  sight  conceivable — God 
be  thanked,  a  ruin!"  The  Coliseum  is  also  connected 
with  the  downfall  of  the  power  of  papacy  as  well  as  pagan- 
ism, for  in  1848  the  great  reformer  Gavazzi  preached  in 
this  historic  enclosure  his  sermons  of  stormy  eloquence  that 
helped  to  rouse  the  people  to  arms  in  that  March  revolt 
which  resulted  in  the  suppression  of  the  Jesuits.  The  Pope 
was  assailed,  his  minister  assassinated,  his  secretary  shot 
in  his  own  palace,  and  the  so-called  "  Vicar  of  Christ  "fled 
in  a  servant's  guise  to  the  Bavarian  ambassador  for  shelter 
from  his  own  people.  God  "  setteth  up  one  and  putteth 
down  another."  The  Apocalyptic  shout  then  began,  "Re- 
joice over  her  !  "  A  Florentine  journal,  hearing  that  "  Pope 
Pius  wept  bitterly,"  printed  and  scattered  far  and  wide 
through  Tuscany  a  hand-bill  headed  "  II  Papa  Piaxge," 
penned  in  words  of  blistering  invective,  the  last  sentence 
of  which  reads  : 

"  Weep,  Pope — weep  burning  tears  over  the  tomb  thou 
hast  dug  for  thyself  ;  weep,  for  Italy  will  yet  be  a  great 
and  glorious  fact,  while  the  popedom  becomes  a  polluted 
name  ;  weep,  for  while  Italy  rises  more  beauteous  from  the 
stake  to  which  thou  condemnest  her,  the  popedom  will  sink 
into  putrefaction  and  decay,  amidst  the  joyous  shout  of 
emancipated  nations  ! " 

UXDEEGROUXD    SIGHTS. 

"We  stepped  into  our  carriage  at  the  entrance  and  drove 
away,  feeling  that  we  had  lived  long  in  those  few  moments, 
for  each,  as  Goethe  said  on  his  visit  there,was  "  an  exquisite 
moment."  Nor  were  the  emotions  less  intense  when  we 
groped  our  way,  candle  in  hand,  through  the  sepulchral 
darkness  of  the  Catacombs.  These  labyrinthine  galleries, 
if   stretched,  in  one   continuous  line,  would   extend    900 


ITALY.  151 

miles,  more  than  twice  the  whole  length  of  Italy  itself. 
They  were  begun  in  apostolic  times,  and  were  used  as  burial- 
places  for  Christians  till  the  capture  of  the  city  by  Alaric, 
a.d.  410.  It  is  supposed  that  six  millions  were  buried  in 
them.  Originally  they  all  belonged  to  private  -families  ; 
hence  many  of  the  titles  taken  from  their  owners  still  survive. 
We  selected  the  Calixtine,  which  are  regarded  the  most 
interesting.  Each  of  us  paid  half  a  franc.  We  were  led 
through  a  garden  to  a  door.  Unlocking  it,  the  guide  led  lis 
down  a  score  of  stone  steps,  handed  around  the  lighted 
cerini,  and  bade  us  follow.  In  this  section  fourteen  popes 
are  said  to  have  been  buried.  The  air  did  not  smell  the 
sweetest;  but  I  suppose  it  was  only  filled  with  the  odor  of 
sanctity.  The  bones  of  some  of  the  dead  were  left  uncov- 
ered, the  exposure  of  which  elicited  grave. criticism.  Queer 
relics  have  been  taken  out  of  some  of  the  tombs,  as  a  jump- 
ing-jack  or  jointed  doll  from  beside  the  dust  of  a  little 
maid;  hair-pins,  brooches,  and  other  articles  of  feminine 
ornament;  lamps  and  candlesticks,  and  the  tools  of  a  wool- 
carder,  once  supposed  to  be  instruments  of  torture. 

One  writer  estimates  that  there  are  in  this  section  170,000 
martyrs  buried.  I  noticed  the  picture  of  the  Good  Shep- 
herd, and  other  symbols  indicative  of  the  faith  and  hope  of 
the  primitive  Christians.  The  dove,  the  vine,  the  olive 
branch  and  palm,  the  anchor,  the  ship,  and  the  fish' are 
everywhere  found.  Vases  or  tear-bottles  are  fastened  by 
plaster  to  some  tombs.  Cockney  difficulties  seem  to  have 
troubled  people  in  early  days,  for  you  see  'ic  for  hie,  'ora 
for  hora;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  Aossa  for  ossa,  and  Aocto- 
bris  for  octobris. 

Meetings  were  held  here,  both  private  and  public;  a 
family  by  themselves  at  the  cubicula,  on  the  anniversaries 
of  the  birth  and  death  of  the  departed,  or  a  hundred  in  some 
larger  gallery  where  the  Eucharist  was  administered.  In- 
dications of  these  gatherings  are  found  in  records  and  in  the 
architectural  arrangements  for  chairs  and  benches  when  the 
chambers  were  hewn  from  the  rock.     But  we  care  not  to 


152  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

tarry  long  in  these  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth,  the  great 
underground  "  library,  on  the  shelves  of  which  Death  has 
arranged  his  works," — to  use  Abbe  Gerbet's  expressive 
figure. 

ANCIENT  MEMORIALS. 

Not  far  away  we  saw  the  church  of  the  Domine  Quo 
Vadis,  where  the  Lord  and  Peter  met,  and  where  the  pre- 
tended footprints  of  Christ  is  still  exhibited.  Probably 
neither  ever  saw  Rome.  History  points  out  the  place  of 
Paul's  imprisonment  and  that  of  his  martyrdom  with  suffi- 
cient certainty  to  give  one  satisfaction  in  visiting  them.  I 
rode  to  both.  The  Mamertine  Prison  I  did  not  find  as 
stenchful  and  filthy  as  Sallust  makes  it.  A  modern  stair- 
case conducts  to  the  lower  dungeon,  which  Ampere  believes 
to  be  Pelasgic,  and  the  oldest  structure  in  Rome.  The 
monk,  our  guide,  held  his  lamp  near  to  the  spot  to  which 
the  Catiline  conspirators  and  others  were  fixed  and  strangled 
one  by  one.  Here  a  king,  Jugurtha,  was  starved  to  death. 
Here  two  decemvirs  committed  suicide.  By  the  door  the 
Emperor  Vitellius  was  murdered.  From  out  this  gloomy 
pit  Cicero  passed  to  the  Forum  one  afternoon,  and  told  the 
people  in  one  word  that  Lentulus  and  his  companions  had 
just  been  executed  :  Vixerunt  !  "  They  have  ceased  to 
live  !  "  This  was  the  same  afternoon  that  the  Senate  were 
debating  what  to  do  with  them.  Cato  and  Cicero  prevailed, 
and  the  guilty  were  slain  untried.  Catiline  fell  in  battle. 
As  you  step  out  again  into  the  street  and  looked  towards 
the  Temple  of  Vesta,  you  recall  the  tradition  of  the  gulf 
which  the  oracle  declared  would  never  close  till  Rome's  best 
gift  was  sacrificed.  In  full  armor  Marcus  Curtius  on  horse- 
back plunged  into  the  abyss,  which  closed  forever. 

But  these  ghastly  memories  are  getting  monotonous. 
Jump  on  one  of  these  omnibuses  and  ride  with  me  over 
to  the 

PINCIAN  HILL. 

I  went  there  one  sunny  afternoon  about  sunset  and  saw 
Rome  in  its  most  cheerful  aspect.     Take  an  outside  seat, 


ITALY.  153 

and  watch  the  people  and  places  as  you  ride.  There  is 
Hilda's  Tower,  one  of  the  localities  about  which  Hawthorne 
has  thrown  a  peculiar  charm  by  his  story  of  "Marble 
Faun."  *  There  is  the  little  window  in  the  upper  story, 
whose  white  curtain  fair  Hilda  used  to  draw  aside  to  let  in 
the  morning  light,  and  there  the  white  doves  she  loved  so 
well,  "  skimming,  fluttering,  and  wheeling  about  the  top- 
most height  of  the  tower,"  where  still  stands  the  votive 
lamp. 

Now  we  pass  the  fountain  of  Trevi,  of  which  a  parting 
draught  will  ensure  your  safe  return  some  day  to  Rome 
again — that  is,  if  you  want  to  come.  The  water  must  also 
be  "  mixed  with  faith  "  abundantly.  Here  is  Piazza  di 
Spagna,  with  an  imposing  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the 
Trinita.  On  these  you  see  loungers  and  groups  of 
"models."  Dickens  has  sketched  some  of  them  :  the 
patriarch,  with  a  long  staff  ;  the  assassin  model,  dressed  in 
a  brown  cloak,  and  arms  folded  in  his  mantle  ;  the  lounger, 
the  haughty  man,  the  Holy  Family,  and  "all  the  falsest 
vagabonds  in  the  world." 

We  stop  in  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  and  climb  the  ter- 
races of  the  Pincian  Hill  by  zigzag  paths  shaded  by  the 
cypress  and  pine.  Here  gather  the  wealthy  and  the  titled, 
soldiers  and  ecclesiastics,  foreign  visitors,  and  groups  of 
merry  children,  who  in  dress  and  feature  present  as  great  a 
contrast  to  those  we  saw  an  hour  ago,  as  do  the  denizens 
of  the  Seven  Dials  and  those  of  Hyde  Park,  in  London. 
But  the  gay  turnouts  and  the  crowds  on  foot  do  not  consti- 
tute the  greatest  attraction  of  the  Pincian — the  level  lawns 
and  gushing  fountains,  the  busts  and  pedestals  which 
adorn  the  smooth  avenues.  Rather  it  is  the  historic  pano- 
rama that  is  spread  out  before  you  as  you  sit  on  the  broad 

*  "  The  path  ascended  a  little,  and  ran  along  under  the  walls  of  a 
palace,  but  soon  passed  through  a  gateway  and  terminated  in  a  small 
paved  courtyard,  bordered  by  a  low  parapet."  Vol.  ii.,  p.  493.  The 
street  is  Via  Portoghese,  and  the  tower  is  known  as  the  Monkey's 
Tower, 


154  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

parapet ;  more  interesting,  in  many  respects,  than  any 
other  on  which  the  sun  shines.  How  many  in  the  clays  of 
Caesar  used  to  sup  here,  guests  of  Lucullus,  in  his  beautiful 
Pincian  villa  !  Plutarch  says  that  these  sumptuous  gar- 
dens, baths,  statues,  and  other  works  of  art,  furnished  by 
this  wealthy  general,  surpassed  in  luxury  and  magnificence 
even  those  of  kings.  Here  the  fifth  wife  of  Claudius,  the 
infamous  Messalina,  reveled  with  her  paramours,  till  the 
order  came  from  the  emperor  that  she  must  die.  "  The 
hot  blood  of  the  wanton  smoked  on  the  pavement,  and 
stained  with  a  deeper  hue  the  variegated  marbles  of 
Lucullus."  At  one  end  of  the  Pincian  are  the  Borghese 
gardens,  and  at  the  other  those  of  the  Villa  Medici.  The 
latter  are  beautified  by  borders  of  box,  arches  of  ilex,  and 
seats  of  mossy  stone,  sculptured  fountains,  and  flower-beds. 
The  former  are  three  miles  in  circuit,  and  enriched  with 
the  remains  of  early  art  vases,  sepulchral  monuments, 
shattered  pillars,  and  broken  arches. 

Hawthorne's  "  Transformation  "  has  a  graphic  picture  of 
this  sylvan  retreat,  threaded  with  avenues  of  cypress,  like 
the  dark  flames  of  funeral  candles  ;  brightened  by  beds  of 
violets,  daisies,  and  rosy  anemones,  and  full  of  dreamy 
cpiietude  and  languid  enjoyment.  It  is  sunset  now,  and 
we  will  not  take  the  risk  of  the  Roman  fever,  but  rather 
stroll  along  the  brilliant  Corso.  Yet  tarry  on  this  parapet 
long  enough  to  fix  some  of  these  landmarks,  by  which  this 
picture  may  be  remembered.  The  blue  hills  enclose  the 
wide  Campagna,  through  which  the  winding  Tiber  flows 
to  the  sea,  seen  in  a  clear  sky  far  away  beyond  Ostia,  and 
once  the  home  of  four  millions  of  people.  St.  Peter's 
forms  the  central  object,  "the  world's  cathedral,  the 
grandest  edifice  ever  built  by  man,  painted  against  God's 
loveliest  sky."  To  the  right  is  the  Vatican,  and  in  front 
is  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  once  a  lofty,  graceful  pile  of 
Parian  marble,  with  gilded  dome,  a  magnificent  imperial 
mausoleum,  but  now  a  dingy  prison.  Beatrice  Cenci  is  said 
to  haye  been  incarcerated  there.     To  the  left  of  St.  Peter'§ 


ITALY.  153 

is  the  steep  coast  of  Janiculum,  where  once  the  Temple  of 
Janus  opened  its  gates  at  the  sound  of  war,  but  closed  them 
with  returning  peace.  Further  to  the  left  is  the  Forum, 
the  Tarpeian  Rock,  and  the  site  of  the  Campus  Martius, 
now  built  over.  Hard  by  was  the  Temple  of  Apollo, 
erected  B.C.  430,  near  which  foreign  ambassadors  were 
received  before  their  entrance  into  Rome,  and  victorious 
generals  paused  to  hear  the  decree  of  the  Senate  which 
gave  them  a  triumphal  welcome.  Here  3000  followers  of 
Marius  were  murdered  by  Sylla  after  he  had  promised 
them  their  lives,  their  dying  cries  being  noticed  by  the 
Senate  in  session  at  the  Temple  of  Bellona.  But  the  mass 
of  buildings  and  the  thronging  memories  of  this  "broadest 
page  of  history  "  bewilder. 

Hark  !  what  is  that  melody  that  breaks  the  stillness  of 
the  evening  ?  A  vesper  hymn,  chanted  in  a  neighboring 
church  or  convent,  faintly  borne  in  tremulous  waves  of  song, 
rising  and  falling  like  the  swell  of  the  sea  : 

"Ave,  Regina  ccelorum, 
Ave,  Domina  angelorum. 
Salve  radix,  salve  porta, 
Ex  qua  raundo  lux  est,  orta, 
Guade  Virgo  gloriosa, 
Super  ornnes  speciosa ; 
Vale,  0  valde  decora 
Et  pro  nobis  Christum  exora." 

It  reminds  us  that  the  worship  of  mortals  has  not  yet 
ceased  in  this  city  of  ancient  paganism.  As  the  old  temples 
and  altars  remain,  so  too  does  much  of  the  idolatrous  super- 
stition of  earlier  years  continue. 

STREET    LIFE    IN    ROME. 

The  Corso  is  the  central  street,  narrow  and  irregular,  but 
bright  and  busy,  particularly  in  the  evening.  Here  are 
shops  of  all  kinds,  and  cafes  with  large  mirrors  and  brilliant 
lamps.  French  is'quite  commonly  spoken.  You  are  struck 
with  the  great  number  of  priests  in  the  streets,  two  or  three 


156  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

usually  walking  together.  One  of  them  was  assassinated 
not  long  before  my  arrival,  by  an  Italian,  who  remarked, 
as  he  stabbed  him,  "  We  have  had  enough  of  them."  Some 
of  the  faces  of  the  women  show,  as  Hillard  says,  "  passion 
and  peril  slumbering  in  their  depths  ;  a  strange  mixture  of 
animal  tenderness  and  animal  fierceness  ;  a  volcanic  force 
which,  at  a  moment's  warning,  might  break  out  in  explo- 
sions of  love,  hatred,  jealousy  or  revenge." 

The  Corso  is  gayest  at  the  time  of  the  Carnival,  when 
the  wildest  enthusiasm  prevails,  and  the  most  grotesque 
costumes  and  decorations  are  displayed.  "  Every  sort  of 
bewitching  madness  of  dress — scarlet  jackets  ;  quaint  old 
stomachers  ;  Polish  pelisses,  strained  and  tight  as  ripe 
gooseberries  ;  tiny  Greek  caps,  all  awry  ;  flowing  skirts 
and  dainty  waists  ;  laughing  faces,  gallant  figures  that  they 
make  !  "  "  At  nightfall  the  Corso  becomes  a  cloud  of  fire, 
which  shines  out  from  many  a  torch  and  lantern.  Red, 
green,  blue,  and  many  a  gay  color  flashes  on  the  sight,  until 
the  whole  scene  becomes  one  of  bewitching  beauty."  Every 
one  tries  to  extinguish  his  neighbor's  light.  Oranges  and 
bunches  of  flowers  are  hurled  at  lanterns,  while  some  from 
balconies  fish  with  hook  and  line  for  candles,  or  perform 
some  other  roguish  trick  upon  those  who  are  in  the  street 

below. 

st.  peter's  church. 

Rome  is  a  many-leaved  picture-book.  It  would  take  a 
long  time  to  see  all  the  churches,  galleries,  studios,  museums, 
gardens,  tombs,  palaces  and  basilicas.  Tourists  must  be 
content  to  leave  unseen  a  great  proportion  of  its  countless 
treasures  of  ancient  and  medieval  art,  and  those  historic 
localities  in  and  near  the  cit}^  about  which  cluster  the  most 
romantic  intei-est.  With  two  friends  I  visited  St.  Peter's, 
on  a  Roman  holiday.  The  bells  rang  out  joyous  peals  as 
we  crossed  the  square.  The  sweeping  colonnade ;  the 
granite  obelisk,  brought  by  Caligula  from  Egypt ;  the 
fountains  on  either  side  ;  the  colossal  statues  and  the  tower- 
ing dome,  rising  609  feet  in  a  cloudless  sky — these  crowded. 


ITALY.  157 

on  our  view  with  bewildering  effect,  as  we  alighted  at  the 
entrance.  Dismissing  the  vetturino,  we  leisurely  examined 
the  red  monolith,  once  a  pagan  idol,  now  bearing  the  inscrip- 
tion, "  Christus  Regnat."  One  recalls  the  thrilling  scene, 
three  hundred  years  ago,  when  it  was  raised  and  would 
have  fallen  but  for  the  cry  of  the  sailor  Bresca,  who  shouted 
— when  death  was  threatened  to  any  one  who  spoke — 
"  Acqua  alle  f  uni " — "  Wet  the  ropes.''''  The  Easter  palms 
are  still  procured  of  his  native  village,  and  used  in  the 
annual  pageant  of  St.  Peter's. 

We  then  entered  this  wonderful  edifice,  which  covers 
some  half  dozen  acres,  which  employed  in  its  erection  the 
time  and  treasures  of  forty-three  popes,  or  three  hundred 
years  and  sixty  millions  of  dollars  ;  which  is  kept  in  repair 
at  an  annual  expense  of  thirty  thousand,  and  which,  in  its 
magnificent  appointments  and  gathered  treasures,  mocks 
comparison  with  any  building  reared  by  man.  It  is  useless 
to  repeat  the  impressions  made,  as  the  surprising  beauty 
and  magnitude  of  the  interior  met  our  gaze.  Mendelssohn 
said  it  seemed  as  a  forest  in  the  undistinguishable  mass  of 
details,  all  sense  of  measurement  being  lost  in  the  over- 
whelming grandeur  that  expands  the  heart.  Another 
speaks  of  an  oppression  of  the  heart  with  a  sense  of  suffoca- 
tion, of  the  nature  of  which  you  neither  know  nor  ask. 
Frederika  Bremer  says  truly  that  it  is  a  Pantheon  rather 
than  a  church.  "  The  aesthetic  intellect  is  edified  more  than 
the  God-loving  or  the  God-seeking  soul.  The  exterior  and 
interior  appear  more  like  an  apotheosis  of  the  popedom 
than  a  glorification  of  Christianity  and  its  doctrine."  One 
writer  regards  the  gorgeous  ceremonies  of  St.  Peter's  as 
"grand  and  sublime  in  the  highest  degree,"  another  as 
"puerile,  tawdry  and  wearisome." 

One  can  not  forget  that  vast  sums  required  to  complete 
this  building  were  gained  by  the  sale  of  indulgences, 
and  that  the  disgusting  abuses  under  Tetzel  led  Luther 
to  nail  up  his  theses  in  1517,  and  so  initiate  the  Refor- 
mation, 


,  158  OUT-BOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

IDOL   AVOESHIP. 

One  of  the  first  objeqts  that  attracted  us  was  the  old 
heathen  idol  of  Jupiter,  a  statue  in  bronze,  about  which  a 
crowd  of  men,  women  and  children  pressed  with  apparently 
sincere  adoration,  bowing  to  it,  caressing  and  kissing  the 
extended  foot  of  what  is  now  christened  Peter.  The 
mother  or  father  lifted  the  little  child  to  rub  its  lips  on  the 
metal  toe,  and  youths  stood  on  tiptoe  to  reach  the  same  ; 
while  some  more  fastidious  ones  wiped  from  the  dirty  foot, 
with  a  handkerchief,  the  moisture  of  previous  mouths. 

Bishop  Kip  justly  asks  the  question  :  "  Has  the  Romanist 
any  reason  to  laugh  at  the  poor  Mussulman,  who  performs 
a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  to  kiss  the  black  stone  of  the  Caaba  ? 
On  St.  Peter's  Day  this  idol  is  clothed  in  magnificent  robes, 
the  gemmed  tiara  placed  on  its  head,  the  jewelled  collar  on 
its  neck,  soldiers  stationed  by  its  side,  and  candles  burning 
about  it.  A  clergyman  of  the  church  of  England  told  me 
that  the  effect  of  the  black  image  thus  arrayed  was  perfectly 
ludicrous  ;  and,  with  the  people  all  kneeling  before  it,  had 
he  not  known  that  he  was  in  a  Christian  church,  he  should 
have  supposed  himself  in  a  heathen  temple,  and  that  the 
idol."  The  ridiculous  worship  of  the  wooden  doll  Bambino, 
kept  in  Ara  Coeli,  is  of  the  same  character. 

We  did  not  ask  a  sight  of  the  veritable  spear  with  which 
the  Redeemer  was  pierced — there  are  others  exhibited  else- 
where just  as  genuine  ;  nor  of  the  handkerchief  that  holds 
the  impression  of  his  face — there  are  six  other  rivals,  one 
having  four  bulls  to  back  up  its  claims,  and  another  four- 
teen bulls  ;  nor  a  piece  of  the  true  cross,  and  so  on,  ad 
nauseam.  But  all  the  mummery  here  witnessed  need  not 
divert  one  from  that  which  is  beautiful  in  art  or  suggestive 
in  history.  I  was  impressed  with  the  wise  policy  of  those 
who,  believing  in  the  utility  of  the  confessional,  furnish 
boxes  for  a  score  or  more  nationalities,  so  that  Europeans, 
Orientals,  Occidentals,  Accidentals,  Papists  and  Ape-ists  are 
all  accommodated,  as  they  may  chance  to  visit  Rome,  and 
may  wish  to  unburden  their  hearts  to  a  fellow-sinner  behind 


ITALY.  159 

the  lattice.  If  they  would  make  mutual  disclosures  the  act 
would  be  more  scriptural.  "  Confess  your  faults  one  to 
another." 

The  Vatican  and  Sistine  Chapel ;  the  hoary  old  Inquisi- 
tion, with  its  machines  of  torture  and  dungeons  of  bloody 
memories  ;  the  gardens  and  other  localities  contiguous,  need 
not  be  described  in  detail.  We  must  leave  many  places 
unvisited,  and  leave  undescribed  many  places  which  were 
visited,  but  an  account  of  which  belongs  rather  to  art 
criticism  than  to  a  picture  of  out-door  life.  Let  no  one 
omit  Rome  because  he  has  only  a  few  days  to  tarry.  If  he 
is  prepared  to  see  this  centre  of  the  world's  history,  one 
day,  even,  brings  a  stimulus  to  thought,  and  memory,  and 
imagination  that  never  can  be  lost. 

Said  President  Felton,  of  Harvard  University  :  "  The 
first  hour  after  the  sight  of  Rome  greets  you  is,  perhaps, 
most  memorable  in  the  life  of  an  educated  man  ;  it  is 
impossible  to  describe  it."  He  was  there  but  forty-eight 
hours,  but  lie  calls  them  "  two  glorious  days,"  as  well  he 
might.  Few,  however,  have  eyes  like  his,  for  it  is  with 
memory  we  see.  Culture  creates  an  atmosphere  in  which 
the  scholar  enjoys  that  which  mere  eyesight  can  not  discern. 
Such  a  one  comes  to  Rome  as  to  a  long-familiar  spot,  and 
comes  not  for  chickens  and  champagne,  or  to  scatter  money 
in  wasteful  folly,  but  to  verify  and  actualize  what  has  long 
lived  in  his  imagination  as  a  part  of  the  permanent  fixtures 
of  his  intellectual  life. 

ENVIRONS    OF   HOME. 

Of  the  environs  of  the  city  the  hurrying  summer  visitor 
sees  nothing,  yet  a  bulky  book  like  Hare's  "  Days  Near 
Rome"  is  needed  merely  to  outline  the  almost  endless 
variety  of  sights  within  the  encompassing  Alban  and  Sabine 
Hills,  the  land  of  Latium,  or  among  the  more  distant 
Volscian  Heights.  If  but  one  excursion  can  be  made,  I 
would  say,  though  not  from  personal  knowledge,  that 
Tivoli  is  the  place  of  all  the  most  alluring.     It  is  eighteen, 


160  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

miles  distant,  and  the  delight  of  painters  and  poets. 
Adrian's  Villa  has  been  robbed  of  its  picturesqueness  by 
the  ruthless  hand  of  Signor  Rosa,  he  who  stripped  the 
Coliseum  of  its  floral  loveliness.  Still  you  can  live  over 
again  in  fancy,  as  you  stand  by  the  juniper's  shade,  the 
scenes  when  these  baths,  academies,  porticos,  and  theaters 
were  the  haunts  of  luxury  and  pleasure ;  when  the  agonies 
of  Prometheus  were  here  rehearsed  ;  when  these  grounds 
echoed  to  song,  and  shout,  and  soldier  step.  The  Emperor 
had  his  spacious  barracks  for  the  Pretorian  Guards,  also  a 
miniature  Vale  of  Tempe,  and  a  flower  plain  known  as 
Elysian  Fields.  Onward  you  walk,  ascending  the  hill  of 
Tivoli,  and  think  of  Brutus  and  Cassius  who  fled  hither 
after  the  murder  of  Caesar  ;  of  Zenobia,  the  captive  queen 
of  Palmyra,  who  was  kept  here  in  custody  after  she  had 
graced  the  triumph  of  Aurelian  ;  of  the  Sibyl  and  of  the 
Sirens,  whose  caves  are  near.  An  artificial  cascade,  320 
feet  high,  was  opened  in  1834.  The  villas  of  Maecenas 
and  Quintilius  Varus,  so  called,  and  that  of  D'Este,  with 
their  arcades  of  acacias  and  masses  of  lilacs  and  roses, 
complete  the  picture,  touched  "  with  the  gray  mists  of  an 
antiquity  five  hundred  years  older 'than  Rome,  and  a  purple 
light  thrown  over  all,  drawn  from  the  poetry  of  Horace, 
Catullus  and  Propertius." 

NAPLES   AND    POMPEIT. 

Seven  hours  are  required  to  make  the  trip  from  Rome  to 
Naples,  a  distance  of  162  miles.  The  ride  was  a  hot  and 
dusty  one  and  the  pictures  of  Italian  life  were  not  attrac- 
tive. Numerous  fortified  towns  compactly  built  on  heights, 
with  a  prominent  church  tower  in  the  center,  wore  a  feudal 
look.  Scattered  villages  were  passed  through  wdiere  the 
rural  population  inhabited  straw-thatched  cottages,  low 
and  dirty,  with  unmistakable  signs  of  social  degradation 
on  every  hand.  Girls  and  women  bending  under  huge 
burdens  walked  along  the  roads  in  the  scorching  sun, 
sometimes  hanging  for  support  to  the  tail  of  a  donkey,  who 


ITALY.  161 

was  almost  hidden  by  his  burden  of  corn  in  the  ear. 
Filthy,  crippled,  and  deformed  beggars  crowd  about  the 
fence  that  surrounds  railway  stations,  and  utter  a  mono- 
tonous cry  for  money.  The  condition  of  the  peasantry  in 
the  interior  and  mountain  villages  is  less  deplorable.  The 
scarcity  of  water  is  noticeable,  and  the  methods  of  irriga- 
tion by  men  and  mules  are  quite  interesting.  The  ancient 
threshing  floors  and  men  pounding  and  beating  out  grain  ; 
the  hemp  fields  ;  the  cactus,  lemon  and  fig,  with  other  trop- 
ical productions,  remind  us  that' we  are  nearing  southern 
Italy. 

If  one  has  the  leisure  to  make  the  journey  by  carriage 
in  short  and  easy  stages  as  did  Horace,  b.c.  41,  described  in 
his  fifth  Satire,  he  will  pass  many  classic  places  which  the 
railway  does  not  reach,  such  as  the  spot  where  Coriolanus 
yielded  to  the  solicitations  of  his  mother  and  wife,  with- 
drawing the  Volscian  army  and  saying  as  he  did  so,  "  O 
mother,  thou  has  saved  Rome,  but  destroyed  thy  son  !  " — 
the  locality  where  Milo  slew  Publius  Clodius,  a  crime  that 
called  from  Cicero  a  powerful  but  ineffectual  defence  ;  the 
site  of  the  palace  of  Circe,  and  the  prisons  where  Ulysses' 
companions  were  confined  after  their  metamorphosis  by 
the  sorceress  ;  the  convent  where  Thomas  Aquinas  studied  ; 
the  tower  raised  to  Cicero  by  his  freedman  on  the  ground 
where  the  orator  was.  slain  by  the  sword  of  Poplius,  both 
of  his  hands  and  head  being  carried  back  to  Rome  and 
exposed  at  the  Rostra,  and  the  meeting-place  where  the 
praetor  Lucus  and  the  poet  Horace,  dressed  in  purple  and 
preceded  by  youthful  maidens  scattering  incense,  were 
presented  to  Maecenas,  the  noble  favorite  of  Augustus. 

Arpinum,  the  birthplace  of  Tully,  southeast  of  Rome,  and 
the  Fucine  lake  and  tunnel,  are  also  noteworthy  stopping 
places.  The  latter  cost  the  labor  of  30,000  men,  during 
eleven  years.  When  finished,  Claudius  celebrated  the 
event  by  the  butchery  of  three  triremes  of  men  in  a  mock 
naval  battle.  Few,  however,  choose  a  lengthened,  zigzag 
journey,  but  push  on  by  rail  to  Naples. 


162  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

CLASSIC    SURROUNDINGS. 

Naples,  or  New  City,  so  called  since  the  Punic  wars,  was 
founded,  according  to  tradition,  by  a  Syren,  Parthenope  ; 
or  by  one  of  the  Argonauts,  B.C.  1300.  It  was  for  a  long 
time  a  Greek  city  in  language,  government  and  customs. 
Roman  exiles  took  refuge  here,  and  the  last  Emperor, 
Augustulus,  retired  to  one  of  its  forts  when  dethroned,  a.d. 
476.  Virgil  made  Naples  his  favorite  residence,  as  he  says, 
"  In  Mantua  born,  but  in  Calabria  bred,  'tis  Naples  owns 
me  now,  whose  pastoral  charge,  whose  rural  toils  and  arms 
I  sung.''  His  tomb  is  in  a  vineyard  on  the  outskirts,  but 
where  his  dust  is  nobody  knows  with  any  more  certainty 
than  as  to  where  Peter's  body  lies.  While  hinting  at  the 
classic  environs,  the  cave  of  the  Cumsean  Sibyl,  where 
^Eneas  came  to  gain  information,  the  Temple  of  Apollo, 
Lake  Avernus,  and  the  Phlegrasan  fields  should  be 
mentioned.  These  romances  were  embellished  and  exag- 
gerated by  the  Greek  poets.  The  forests  about  the  dark 
and  birdless  lake  were  dedicated  to  Hecate.  Here,  it  is 
said,  Ulysses  descended  in  the  lower  Cimmerian  darkness 
and  evoked  the  dead,  as  told  in  the  Odyssey. 

Virgil's  Tartarus  is  easily  reached — that  is,  by  men. 
Headley  tells  of  his  passage  through  the  darkness  and  the 
water  on  the  back  of  his  guide.  The  red  light  of  his  torch 
flung  a  glare  on  the  rocks  over  head,  and  on  the  black- 
smeared  face  of  the  carrier,  till  it  seemed  as  if  he  had 
really  reached  the  infernal  world  astride  the  devil's  back. 
He  almost  heard  the  bark  of  Cerberus  and  the  roar  of  the 
Cocytus  as  he  splashed  through  the  water  along  gloomy 
galleries.  There  was  an  English  lady  whose  curiosity  was 
aroused  to  see  the  Sibyl's  baths  in  these  Stygian  depths. 
"  Without  thinking  how  she  was  to  be  carried,  she  was 
just  adjusting  her  dress,  when  the  guide,  stooping  down, 
suddenly  inserted  her  carefully  astraddle  of  his  neck  and 
plunged  into  the  water.  The  squeal  that  followed  would 
have  frightened  all  the  Sibyls  of  the  mountains  out  of  their 
grottos.     It  was  too  late,  however,  to  retreat.     The  pas- 


ITALY.  163 

sage  was  too  narrow  to  turn  round  in,  sne  was  com- 

pelled to  enter  the  first  chamber  before  she  could  be  re- 
lieved from  her  predicament.  When  she  came  again  into 
the  daylight  a  more  astonished  or  pitiable  looking  object  I 
never  beheld.  Her  elegant  bonnet  was  blackened  and 
crushed,  and  she  stood  fingering  it  with  an  absent  look, 
uttering  now  and  then  an  expression  of  horror  at  what  she 
had  passed  through." 

The  Island  of  Capri  may  be  mentioned  in  this  con- 
nection. The  Emperor  Tiberius  made  it  notorious  for  his 
debaucheries.  He  reared  twelve  villas  and  dedicated  them 
to  as  many  gods.  The  Blue  Grotto,  with  its  lustrous 
water  and  stalactite  roof,  is  a  place  of  notable  interest. 
"  The  waters  are  the  brightest,  loveliest  blue  that  can  be 
imagined,"  says  Mr.  Clemens.  "  No  tint  could  be  more 
lavishing,  no  lustre  more  superb.  Throw  a  stone  into  the 
water,  and  the  myriad  of  tin\r  bubbles  that  are  created 
flash  out  a  brilliant  glare  like  blue  theatrical  fires.  Dip 
an  oar  and  its  blade  turns  to  splendid  frosted  silver,  tinted 
with  blue.  Let  a  man  jump  in  and  instantly  he  is  cased  in 
an  armor  more  gorgeous  than  ever  kingly  Crusader  wore." 

MEMORIES    OF    PAUL. 

But  of  all  these  seashore  resorts,  ancient  Puteoli  will 
most  interest  the  Christian  traveler,  as  being  the  port 
where  a  corn-ship  from  Alexandria  once  landed  a  Roman 
prisoner,  Paul,  the  Apostle,  on  his  way  to  Caesar's  judg- 
ment seat.  The  Castor  and  Pollux  had  had  a  fine  run  of 
180  miles  that  day  from  Rhegium,  as  we  learn  from  Acts 
xxviii.  :  13.  This  spacious  port  was  the  Liverpool  of  Italy, 
and  afforded  secure  anchorage  for  countless  vessels.  It  had 
a  conspicuous  lighthouse,  which  would  have  been  a  welcpine 
sight  to  the  belated,  storm-tossed  captive,  who  had  been 
four  months  on  his  way  from  Csesarea.  He  looked  across 
the  beautiful  bay  and  saw  Vesuvius,  not  as  now,  scarred 
and  black  with  eruptions,  but  clothed  with  vineyards, 
while  the  cities  of  the  plain  were  lying  unharmed  beneath 


164  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

its  shadow.  A  few  years  later  these  were  destroyed  as 
Sodom  of  old.  Among  the  victims  was  Drusilla  and  the 
child  born  of  adulterous  union  with  Felix.  The  apostle's 
warnings  of  a  judgment  to  come  had  made  them  tremble, 
but  had  not  led  to  repentance.  Perhaps  the  approach  of 
that  fire-storm,  as  Professor  Butler  suggests,  may  have 
awakened  in  her  breast  the  forgotten  appeals  which  Paul 
made  at  Csesarea  in  Herod's  judgment  hall. 

Josephus,  Strabo,  Pliny,  and  the  many  biographers  of 
Paul,  give  us  a  vivid  picture  of  the  Naples  of  that  day,  and 
the  historic  associations  that  invest  it  with  great  interest. 
The  promontories  of  Minerva,  with  their  villas  and 
gardens  ;  the  isle  of  Capri  and  the  curving  Campanian 
coast,  bright  beneath  the  blue  sky  of  early  spring  ;  the  ex- 
pectant throng  on  the  pier,  drawn  together  by  the  sight  of 
the  unfurled  topsail,  which  Seneca  says  was  the  honorable 
distinction  of  the  grain-ships  from  Egypt  that  brought 
food  to  imperial  granaries  ;  the  landing  of  the  military 
and  their  manacled  prisoner  ;  their  delay  of  a  week  by  the 
courtesy  of  Julius,  and  the  eager  colloquy  with  the  Jews  ; 
the  walk  along  the  "  Consular  Way,"  of  which  Horace 
speaks,  and  relics  of  which  are  seen  to-day  in  fragments  of 
pavements  and  milestones  ;  the  Appian  Way,  the  queen  of 
roads,  with  its  motley  throng  of  people  on  foot  and  in  car- 
riages, and  the  objects  of  engaging  interests  to  one  of 
scholary  tastes,  like  the  Apostle,  pointed  out  by  the 
brethren  with  him,  who  was  not  ashamed  of  his  chain — 
these  and  other  reminiscences  make  the  city  which  we  are 
about  to  enter  one  of  the  most  attractive  of  any  in  Italy. 

Emerging  from  the  stately  railway  station,  Dr.  S.,  a  New 
York  surgeon,  took  me  to  Hotel  Beaurivage,  some  three 
miles  awaj^  in  the  upper  quarters  of  the  city,  beyond  the 
Castle  St.  Elmo.  Our  direct  course  was  by  the  famous 
Toledo,  the  oft-described  avenue  which  is  perhaps  the  noisiest,' 
most  bustling  and,  most  bewildering  in  Europe.  No  play 
before  the  theatric  scenes  can  compare  with  the  exciting, 
amusing,  disgusting,  delightful,  ever-changing  phantasma- 


ITALY.  165 

goria  of  this  great  thoroughfare.  Here  is  a  city  of  half  a 
million,  whose  temperature  is  such  as  allows  one  to  live  out- 
doors most  of  the  year. 

NEAPOLITAN    STREET    LIFE. 

For  pleasure  and*for  toil  the  open  air  is  sought.  The 
various  craftsmen  at  work  add  picturesqueness  to  the  view 
as  you  ride  along  ;  the  tailor,  preparing  garments  ;  the  cob- 
bler, hammering  a  shoe  ;  the  joiner,  pushing  his  plane  ;  the 
juggler,  playing  his  tricks  ;  the  scribe,  insensible  of  the 
jargon,  taking  down  the  messages  directed  to  the  unlet- 
tered ;  the  poulterer  plucking  his  fowls  ;  the  cook  making 
ready  his  macaroni  ;  the  scullion  scouring  his  pans  ;  the 
barber  lathering  dusky  faces  ;  the  buffoon,  the  soldier,  the 
mattress-maker,  and  the  vegetable-vender  ;  the  dirty  monk 
and  crippled  beggar  crying  for  alms  ;  the  story-teller,  recit- 
ing, for  a  few  centimes,  tales  of  war  or  songs  of  love  ;  the 
traveling  Esculapius  shouting  his  drugs,  and  the  stooping 
crone  mumbling  aloud  the  hymn  or  prayer  as  an  appointed 
penance.  Then  there  are  the  screaming,  swearing  mule- 
teers and  cartmen  beating  their  donkey  with  unmerciful 
stripes  as  they  try  to  draw  the  heavy,  overloaded  carts  up 
the  high  hill.  The  society  with  a  long  name  would  have 
business  enough  here  to  employ  a  thousand  agents. 

Then  the  pedestrians  who,  in  absence  of  sidewalks  in 
many  places,  take  the  streets  ;  men,  women,  and  children 
of  all  sorts  and  conditions  ;  some  well  dressed  or  uniformed, 
but  of  tener  those  of  tawny  skin  and  greasy  smell ;  the 
younger  of  both  sexes,  with  scant  attire  and  with  as  little 
modesty,  attending  to  the  needs  of  nature  in  quite  con- 
spicuous places  ;  naked  babes  in  motherly  arms  ;  laborers 
with  little  more  on  than  a  simple  covering  about  the  loins 
such  as  bathers  wear  ;  fruit  venders  and  lemonade  carriers 
dodging  in  and  out  between  the  vehicles  and  yelling  all  the 
while  ;  army  officers  with  clanking  spurs  and  shining  scab- 
bards ;  navy  captains  in  blue  and  gold  ;  sailors  and  news- 
boys, priests  and  friars  ;    gendarmes,  cattle  drivers,  and 


166  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

charcoal  sellers — these  are  some  of  the  50,000  which,  it  is 
said,  may  at  any  hour  of  the  day  be  found  on  the  Toledo  or 
along  the  grand  Piazza,  in  a  babbling,  yelling,  crushing, 
confusing  crowd,  with  1500  different  vehicles  besides,  to 
say  nothing  of  those  on  horseback.  The  "  bright  eyes, 
raven  tresses,  and  musical  voice  of  the  Neapolitans,"  of  which 
some  glowing  writers  speak,  are  absent  from  the  picture. 

The  patois  spoken  is  abominable.  Pure  Italian  would  be 
unintelligible  to  the  lowest  class.  The  poetry  of  the  scene 
you  expected  is  lost  in  the  prosy  facts  about  you  ;  "  in 
bright-eyed  daughters  of  Italy  who  do  not  know  their  own 
mother-tongue  ;  in  the  streets  where  flowers  and  filth,  fruit 
and  folly  are  seen  in  delightful  kindred,  and  where  one-third 
of  the  people  we  meet  remind  us  of  the  plague  in  pantaloons 
and  the  small-pox  in  the  unwashed  chemise  of  the  maiden  ; 
in  palaces,  at  the  doors  of  which  sit  in  filth  and  wretched- 
ness, raking  out  the  matted  and  tangled  hair  which  grows 
on  the  senseless  pates  of  each  other,  and  in  the  nightly 
assassinations  and  daily  debauches.  Poets  may  portray 
Naples  as  one  of  the  outposts  of  Paradise  itself,  but  "to  me 
(says  Dr.  Eddy)  it  will  be  associated  with  a  fallen,  de- 
graded, dishonored,  enslaved  and  besotted  people." 

SOCIAL   DEGRADATION. 

He  adds  one  picture  which  I  did  not  notice — the  perform- 
ance of  monks  before  a  wayside  shrine.  A  rude  cross 
held  an  effigy  of  the  Redeemer.  One  of  the  monks  de- 
claimed vehemently,  and  two,  with  whining  voices,  passed 
among  the  crowd  gathering  money.  The  driver  uncovered 
as  he  passed  by,  but  confessed  that  he  had  no  faith  in  the 
ceremony  to  which  he  had  been  taught,  as  a  devout  Cath- 
olic, to  pay  homage.  An  intelligent  Roman  told  me  the 
same.  The  great  danger  now  lies  in  the  direction  of  infi- 
delity ;  the  natural  swing  from  the  degrading  social  servi- 
tude under  which  these  priest-ridden  people  have  been  so 
long  groaning.  Now  that  railroads,  telegraphs  and  political 
revolutions  have  scattered  much  of  the  superstitions  of  the 


ITALY.  167 

past,  unless  the  Gospel  is  received,  scepticism  is  the  sure 
result. 

In  Naples,  as  in  Cuba  and  elsewhere,  you  see  the  alter- 
nate worship  and  whipping  of  their  gods,  as  in  the  chastise- 
ment of  Januarius,  the  patron  saint  of  Naples,  because  the 
idol  did  not  stay  the  eruption  of  Vesuvius.  The  bottled 
blood  of  the  martyr  is  one  of  the  peep-shows  that  please 
people  who  are  still  in  their  intellectual  infancy.  It  has 
sometimes  hajypened  that  the  trick  is  unsuccessful.  On  one 
occasion  the  blood  refused  to  liquefy.  A  mob  was  the  re- 
sult. The  military  was  ordered  out,  and  the  officer  in  com- 
mand told  the  ecclesiastical  juggler  that  if  he  didn't  at 
once  go  into  "  liquidation "  or  liquefaction  business  he 
would  lose  his  head  in  ten  minutes  !  The  miracle  (?)  was 
at  once  performed  ;   the  sword  dissolved  the  saint  ? 

But  here  we  are  at  our  hotel,  far  away  from  the  surging, 
shouting  crowds  of  the  lower  quarters  of  Naples ;  high 
up  above  the  sounds  and  smells  through  which  we  passed 
without  harm.  One  guide-book,  referring  to  these  offen- 
sive odors,  soberly  advises  the  reader  to  take  a  drink  of 
brandy  every  time  his  olfactories  are  offended  !  One  would 
need  to  carry  a  cask  of  liquor  on  his  shoulders  to  run  his 
factories  with.     Better  run  them  with  water. 

We  are  welcomed  to  quiet,  elegant  quarters  by  an  En- 
glish lady,  who  is  manager  of  this  palace  hotel.  Rooms, 
with  piano,  balcony,  and  other  felicitous  adjuncts,  are 
opened  to  us,  fronting  on  the  bay,  commanding  a  maritime 
view  probably  unequaled  in  the  world.  It  is  in  the  hour 
before  sunset,  balmy  and  still.  Like  "  the  sea  of  glass  min- 
gled with  fire  "  seen  in  prophetic  vision,  the  Bay  of  Naples 
at  our  feet  shimmers  beneath  the  lustrous  light  of  % 
cloudless  Italian  sky.  The  rosy  and  purple  tints  clothe  the 
sombre  slopes  of  Vesuvius  with  a  veil  of  beauty  as  fair  as 
when  Tasso,  born  under  its  shadows,  used  to  look  up  into 
these  same  summer  skies.  Sorrento,  Castelmare,  Portici, 
and  other  villages  along  the  coast,  are  embowered  in  gar- 
dens, groves,  and  vineyards  where  the  ripening  grape,  the 


163  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

oleander,  the  citron,  and  fig  are  found.  Seaward,  the  blue 
Mediterranean  glows  as  the  sun  hastens  to  hide  behind  the 
isle  of  Ischia,  lighting  up  again  its  ancient  volcano,  as  it 
were,  with  crimson  fires.  This  region  seems  not  of  earth. 
As  Rogers  asks, 

"  Was  it  not  dropt  from  heaven  ?    Not  a  grove 
But  breathes  enchantment  !    Not  a  cliff  hut  flings 
On  the  clear  wave  some  image  of  delight — 
From  daybreak  to  that  hour,  the  last  and  best, 
"When,  one  by  one,  the  fishing-boats  come  forth, 
Each  with  its  glimmering  lantern  at  the  prow, 
And,  when  the  nets  are  thrown,  the  evening  hymn 
Steals  over  the  trembling  waters.  " 

Izaak  Walton  did  well  to  ask,  "  If  God  gives  such  beauty 
for  us  sinful  creatures  here  on  earth,  what  must  he  not  have 
prepared  for  his  saints  in  heaven  !  " 

A  long  ride,  however,  and  an  hour's  delay  in  getting  sup- 
per, had  whetted  our  appetite  for  meaner  things.  This  in- 
terruption was  temporary,  and  the  mellow  air  drew  us  out 
again.  The  stars  once  more  looked  down  into  the  quiet 
bay.  The  flashing  lights  along  the  shore  twinkled  in  the 
dark  waters.  The  din  of  Naples  was  only  a  distant  murmur, 
varied  now  and  then  by  toll  of  bell  or  waft  of  music  from 
the  band  in  the  gardens  below.  But  the  central  object, 
which  made  us  forget  everything  else,  was  the  lurid  flame 
of  the  famous  volcano,  not  discernible  by  the  day,  but  flar- 
ing up  now  with  ominous  look  every  few  seconds.  It  was 
the  first  sight  of  the  kind  we  had  seen.  It  had  a  strange 
fascination.  It  was  grand,  awful,  sublime,  magnificent,  etc. 
We  used  up  all  the  adjectives  we  could  think  of — one  must 
be  excused  for  occasional  redundance,  especially  in  describ- 
ing an  object  like  this  volcano,  which  itself  occasionally 
"  slops  over  " — and  then  we  telegraphed  to  an  American 
friend  in  Rome  to  come  down  the  next  day  without  fail  to 
see  Vesuvius.  He  did  not  care  to  see  this  "  old  inveterate 
smoker  "  enough  to  take  the  fatiguing  trip,  and  so  he  went 
back  to  New  York  without  even  the  smell  of  its  fire  in  his 


ITALY.  1G9 

garments.  Now  that  a  railway  is  finished  to  the  summit, 
one  can  visit  the  mountain  with  more  satisfaction  than 
formerly. 

During  your  stay  in  Naples,  the  Museum,  of  course, 
will  be  visited.  It  is  an  excellent  preparative  for  a  visit  to 
Pompeii,  for  it  presents,  as  Hillard  has  observed,  an  epit- 
ome of  the  daily  domestic  life  of  a  Roman  1800  years  ago, 
so  that  you  can  follow  the  hours  of  the  day  in  their  duties 
and  amusements  ;  can  recline  with  the  nobleman  at  his 
meals,  criticise  his  furniture,  his  dishes  of  food  ;  can  enter 
his  wife's  dressing-room,  see  her  jewels,  mirrors  and  rouge  ; 
can  look  into  the  kitchen  and  see  the  charcoal  in  the 
brazier,  the  water  in  the  urn,  and  the  simmering  juices  in 
the  saucepan.  You  can,  he  says,  accompany  a  student  to 
his  library,  the  surgeon  to  his  patients,  the  artisan  to  his 
shop,  the  farmer  to  the  field,  the  citizen  to  the  theatre, 
or  the  gambler  to  his  den.  Here  were  loaded  dice,  which 
show  that  money  was  gained  then,  as  now,  by  fraud  ; 
tickets  of  admission  to  games  ;  and,  most  interesting  of 
all,  various  fruits,  and  loaves  of  wheat  bread  baked 
eighteen  centuries  ago.  They  appeared  to  be  well  done — 
in  fact,  a  little  stale.  The  stamp  of  the  baker  was  clear. 
It  indicated  which  loaf  was  made  of  wheat  and  which  of 
bean  flour.  The  average  weight  of  each  is  a  pound. 
Like  the  Sicilian  loaves  to-day,  they  are  round,  de- 
pressed in  the  middle,  raised  on  the  edge,  and  divided  into 
sections.  The  olives  are  soft  and  pungent  to  the  taste,  and 
so  perfectly  preserved  by  the  air-tight  encrustations  that 
you  might  imagine  them  recently  gathered. 

The  garments  of  the  dead  were  charred,  and  some 
nearly  reduced  to  ashes,  while  sandals  and  other  articles 
were  only  blackened.  The  process  of  restoring  burnt  MS. 
and  the  work  of  translating  the  inscriptions  interested  us 
much.  An  Italian  attache  showed  us  into  another  room, 
in  which  we  made  a  short  stay.  He  could  not  speak  En- 
glish, but  the  lamps,  ornaments  and  frescoes  spoke  of  the 
loathsome  private  life  of  many  of  the  Pompeiians.     It  is  a 


11 0  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

shame  even  to  speak  of  the  things  done  of  them  in  secret. 
The  room  is  closed  to  women.  The  words  over  the  door 
explain  the  reason  :  Occetti  Osceni  —  "  Obscene  -Ob- 
jects." 

For  a  franc  you  can  buy  a  railway  ticket  to  the  resus- 
ciated  city,  a  dozen  miles  from  Naples.  Two  more  francs 
admit  you  and  furnish  you  with  a  guide.  He  wears  thin 
clothes,  a  military  cap,  and  sword.  He  is  not  allowed  to 
receive  any  fees  ;  but  watch  him.  Towards  the  end  of  the 
hour's  tramp,  he  will  ask  you,  with  a  half-whisper,  in 
broken  English,  if  you  have  tobacco  about  you,  and  remind 
you  that  he  is  not  allowed  to  have  any  cash  gratuity.  Dr. 
S.  and  myself  gave  him  a  piece — that  is,  a  piece  of  our 
mind  as  to  tobacco — also  sundry  centimes.  A  hanger-on, 
perhaps  an  unoccupied  workman,  darted  suddenly  from  out 
an  angle  of  a  ruined  temple  and  handed  us  each  a  bunch  of 
maiden-hair,  a  much  esteemed  fern.  He  was  silent  and 
grinning,  and  made  emphatic  gestures  to  indicate  that  it 
was  a  gift,  a  pure  act  of  unselfish  benevolence  on  his  part, 
and  that  any  idea  of  reward  had  never  entered  his  head. 
But  as  soon  as  he  retreated  again  to  his  hiding-place,  out 
of  sight  of  the  officer,  the  old  rogue  thrust  out  one  hand 
for  money  most  earnestly,  and  played  a  vigorous  panto- 
mime with  the  other  hand  and  with  his  facial  muscles, 
which  told  us  plainer  than  words  could  speak,  that  he  was 
watched  by  the  other  fellow,  and  that  he  did  want  some  of 
our  loose  coin,  ever  so  much.  He  got  some,  too.  Who 
can  blame  them  ?     They  live  on  macaroni  and  strangers. 

THE    CITY    OF     THE    DEAD. 

We  were  first  shown  into  a  mortuary  museum  :  a  somber 
prelude  to  the  scenes  which  were  to  follow.  Nothing 
more  thrillingly  impressive  could  be  conceived  than  these 
rows  of  petrified  bodies  of  man,  bird  and  beast,  exhumed 
after  eighteen  centuries,  and  still  exhibiting  the  marks  of 
the  pain  and  horror  which  attended  their  living  entomb- 
ment.    The  swooning  fugitives  fell  one  by  one,  sometimes 


ITALY.  m 

locked  in  each  other's  embrace,  and  sometimes  huddled 
together.  Seventeen  bodies  in  a  standing  posture,  were 
found  in  the  wine-cellar  of  Diomed.  A  mother  and  three 
children  sunk  together  beneath  the  sulphurous  showers  ; 
a  young  man  and  maid,  near  the  baths,  clasped  each 
other's  arms  ;  a  woman  clutching  her  bag  of  gold,  and  the 
soldier  clutching  his  spear.  You  will  see  here  a  giant 
frame,  the  limbs  straight  as  if  calmly  placed,  the  sandals 
laced  and  the  nails  in  the  soles  distinct ;  the  iron  ring  on 
the  finger,  the  mustache  clinging  to  his  lip,  and  the  aspect 
of  the  whole  that  of  resoluteness  and  courage. 

Here  is  a  girl,  not  over  fifteen,  who  fell  in  running.  She 
had  covered  her  face,  and  the  bent  fingers  show  that  she 
held  fast  the  tunic  or  veil.  Her  arms  are  bare  and  the 
short  sleeves  are  rent.  The  stitches  on  her  dress,  the 
smooth  flesh,  and  the  delicate  embroidery  of  her  shoes  are 
clearly  seen.  There  is  another  figure,  representing  what 
was  once  a  Pompeiian  lady  of  wealth,  as  shown  by  the 
delicate  hands  and  silver  rings  ;  the  keys,  jewels,  costly 
urns,  and  ninety-one  pieces  of  coin  found  under  her  body. 
The  texture  of  her  clothes  and  her  head-dress  are  distinct. 
Hers  was  a  death  of  anguish  and  continued  agony,  as  indi- 
cated by  the  swollen  and  convulsed  body.  Another  had 
127  silver  coins  and  69  of  gold,  and  fell  near  the  Hercu- 
laneum  Gate.  The  priest  of  Isis  had  cut  through  two 
walls,  and  fell,  suffocating,  at  the  foot  of  the  third,  grasp- 
ing his  axe.  The  prisoners  in  the  barrack,  riveted  to  an 
iron  rack  ;  the  mule  in  the  bakery  ;  the  horses  shut  up  in 
the  tavern  of  Albinus  ;  the  goat  with  the  bell  tied  to  its 
neck  ;  a  dove  in  a  garden  niche,  refusing  to  leave  her  nest  ; 
a  dog  with  head  extended,  as  if  uttering  his  last,  smothered 
moan,  the  ivory  point  of  a  tooth  shining  clean  and  bright — 
these  all  tell  of  the  sudden,  pitiless,  overpowering  calamity 
as  no  pen  is  able  to  do. 

Photograph  and  engraving  have  made  Pompeii  a  familiar 
object.  One  afternoon  ramble  need  not  be  described  in 
detail.     Moi-e  than  half  of  this  city  had  been  opened  in  1879 


172  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

and  less  than  TOO  bodies  of  the  2000  who  perished  have 
been  found.  Its  population  at  the  time  of  its  destruction, 
August  24,  a.d.  79,  was  30,000.  The  first  explorations  were 
made  by  Charles  III.  of  Naples,  in  1748,  but  not  till  I860 
did  work  begin  in  earnest.  The  eruption  of  79  changed 
the  physical  configuration  of  the  district,  diverting  the 
course  of  the  river  Sarno  and  pushing  back  the  sea,  which 
once  washed  its  walls,  as  some  believe.  The  region  is 
volcanic,  and  a  few  years  before  its  final  overthrow  an  earth- 
quake had  destroyed  many  public  and  private  buildings  of 
Pompeii. 

Pliny  the  younger  was  stationed  at  Misenum  at  the  time 
of  the  final  overthrow.  He  describes  the  horror  of  the 
hour;  the  black  smoke  that  suddenly  burst  from  Vesuvius 
and  spread  over  the  cloudless  sky  like  the  shade  of  a  mighty 
tree  till  all  was  dark;  the  shrieks  of  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren seeking  each  other,  but  knowing  each  other  only  by 
their  cries;  invocation  to  the  gods;  the  falling  of  the  ashes 
like  a  funeral  pall,  the  fringes  of  wdiich  touched  Africa  on 
the  south  and  Rome  on  the  north,  leading  the  people  there 
to  say,  "The  world  is  overturned";  the  appearance  of  the 
stars,  and  finally  the  sun,  pallid  as  if  in  an  eclipse.  The 
stifling  ashes  were  followed  by  showers  of  hot  stones  and 
torrents  of  black  mud,  which  formed  an  encasing  cement 
which  sealed  up  till  now  the  secrets  and  treasures  of  this 
gay  and  godless  city.  The  tell-tale  inscriptions  are  a  very 
instructive  study.  School-boys  scribbled  on  the  wall  as 
now;  lovers  jotted  here  and  there  an  amorous  sentence; 
wits  wrote  their  jokes  and  scholars  their  epigrams;  wrine- 
bibbers  and  tennis  players,  cynic  and  sceptic,  trader  and 
slave  have  all  left  their  contributions  to  the  record  of  the 
social  life  of  their  day.  The  tavern  keeper  at  the  sign  of 
the  Elephant  tells  you  that  he  has  recently  fitted  up  his 
house  with  "  a  triclinium,  three  beds,  and  every  con- 
venience ";  an  artist  invokes  the  wrath  of  Venus  on  any 
ruthless  hand  that  dare  deface  his  outdoor  painting  on  the 
wall  of  a  shop;  the  loser  of  a  jar  promises  a  reward  for  its 


ITALY.  IV  3 

return,  and  double  the  amount  for  the  thief  himself  ;  a 
candidate  for  sedile  begs  a  vote,  with  the  avowal  that  he 
may  some  day  make  an  office  for  his  friend;  and  on  street 
corners  the  city  fathers  have  left  notifications  which  com- 
mand that  no  one  commit  nuisance. 

Eight  gates  opened  into  the  town.  The  narrow  streets, 
from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  wide,  are  paved  with  blocks  of  lava 
stone  and  worn  by  ox  team.  Fording  blocks  seem  to  indicate 
that  the  water  ran  deep  on  rainy  days.  Suspended  over- 
head were  balconies,  from  which  a  basket  could  be  let  down 
for  food  or  fruits  brought  along  the  street,  and  at  which 
the  Pompeian  girl  stood  as  she  "  culled  the  kiss  "  from  her 
lips,  as  was  the  ancient  custom,  and  threw  it  to  her  lover 
as  he  passed. 

Entering  one  of  the  roofless  dwellings  you  see  the  warn- 
ing, Cave  Canem,  or  read  under  your  feet  the  welcome, 
Salve.  Lifting  your  right  foot  first — for  to  enter  with 
the  left  foremost  was  ominous  to  a  Roman — you  pass  the 
entry  way,  where  a  slave  was  sometimes  chained,  into  the 
atrium,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  the  impluvium  or  pool  of 
water.  To  the  right  and  left  are  cubicula,  tiny  cells  for 
sleepers,  about  as  large  as  a  state-room  on  a  steamer,  with 
an  elevation  of  solid  masonry  instead  of  a  bedstead.  On 
these  skins  or  mattresses  were  laid.  The  number  and  size 
of  apartments  varied  according  to  the  wealth  of  the 
owner  ;  so  also  did  the  frescoes,  decorations  and  furni- 
ture. 

The  dresses  and  toilets  of  the  ladies  were  very  elaborate. 
The  love  of  baubles  was  excessive.  Not  only  did  they  bore 
their  flesh  for  them,  as  other  pagan  nations  do,  but  loaded 
every  finger  with  trinkets  ;  legs,  arms,  and  shoulders  as  well. 
Their  slaves  pared  their  nails  and  applied  perfumes  and 
pigments  ;  dressed  them  in  their  loose  rich  robes  which, 
with  matrons,  came  to  the  feet,  but  with  simple  citizens' 
wives  and  daughters  came  scarcely  down  to  their  knees,  so 
as  to  leave  exposed  the  ornaments  referred  to.  A  Roman 
sometimes  bathed  seven  times  a  day.     The  remains  of  the 


1"4  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

thermae,  the  hypocaust,  the  reservoir,  and  even  some  of 
rosin  with  which  the  fires  were  kindled  under,  the  boilers, 
are  very  suggestive.  The  daily  avocations  are  also  traced 
with  startling  vividness.  Here  you  see  the  yellow  stain 
with  the  amphora  made  on  the  liquor  dealer's  pavement,  or 
which  the  goblet  'left  on  the  marble  counter,  the  drink 
being  very  strong.  You  will  find  the  druggist's  pills  and 
liquids  ;  the  medicine  chest  with  a  groove  for  the  spatula, 
the  forceps  to  hold  an  artery  and  the  probe  to  open  a  wound; 
scalpels,  hooks,  needles  and  cupping-glasses — fully  three 
hundred  articles  in  the  surgical  line. 

In  the  color  merchant's  shop  were  discovered  the  mineral 
and  vegetable  substances  which  were  used  in  their  rare 
paintings  ;  in  the  barber's  the  unguents  and  soaps  just  as 
they  were  left  on  that  fateful  August  morning  ;  in  the  mill 
the  huge  stones  turned  by  beast  and  sometimes  by  slaves, 
whose  eyes  had  been  put  out  as  were  Samson's  ;  in  the 
bakery  the  troughs  where  the  dough  was  worked,  the 
arched  oven,  the.  ash-hole,  and  the  vase  which  held  the 
water  which  was  sprinkled  on  the  crust  and  made  it  glisten 
as  does  the  baker's  bread  you  eat  in  Italy  to-day.  The 
dyer's  shop  and  the  fuller's  ;  the  grocery  and  the  perfum- 
ery establishment  ;  the  places  of  amusement  and  of  wor- 
ship are  full  of  attractiveness,  not  only  to  the  archaeologist, 
but  to  the  tourist.  The  rampart  surrounding  the  amphi- 
theatre where  gladiatorial  shows  were  held  is  pierced  with 
holes.  In  them  were  once  fixed  an  iron  grating  to  guard 
against  the  bounds  of  the  panthers.  The  ditch  about  this 
low  wall  was  filled  with  water  to  intimidate  the  elephants, 
who  were  thought  to  fear  this  element. 

The  study  of  the  inscriptions  is  better  understood  now 
than  once,  and  some  errors  have  been  corrected.  Marc 
Monnier  says  that  a  carved  head  was  found  with  an  inscrip- 
tion that  was  first  thought  to  be  Isis  propheta,  and  so 
proved  the  worship  of  the  Egyptian  Isis,  whereas  the  motto 
was  Idem  probavit.  The  two  were  about  as  unlike  as  the 
telegram  that   once  reached   London   from  Ernst  Renan. 


ITALY.  175 

He  was  to  lecture  on  "  The  Influence  of  Rome  on  the  For- 
mation of  Christianity,"  but  it  was  published  "  The  Influ- 
ence of  Rum  on  the  Digestion  of  Humanity  !  " 

The  sun  beat  down  with  torrid  heat  as  we  went  from 
temple  to  bath,  and  from  shop  to  dwelling,  but  there  was 
pure,  sweet  water  at  hand,  of  which  I  took  copious  draughts, 
and  a  breeze  from  the  sea  occasion ly  brought  to  us  a  deli- 
cious coolness.  I  rested  awhile  in  the  shade,  as  in  the 
house  of  Lucretius,  until  my  watchful  medical  asso- 
ciate would  warn  me  of  the  danger  of  cooling  too 
suddenly.  The  house  of  "  the  strange  woman "  was 
among  the  last  visited,  of  which  decency  forbids  de- 
scription. 

That  night  as  I  looked  at  midnight  from,  the  balcony  of 
my  hotel,  at  Naples,  across  the  bay  and  saw  the  lurid  glare 
of  that  devouring  flame,  trembling,  palpitating  in  the  dark- 
ness, I  seemed  to  hear  the  old  warning  which  men  are  so 
slow  to  heed,  "  Your  sin  will  find  you  out  !  "  These  cities 
of  the  plain  gave  themselves  over  to  uncleanness  and 
strange  flesh,  and  were  "  set  forth  for  an  example,  suffering 
the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire."  Religion,  art,  and  morals 
were  thoroughly  corrupt.  The  practical  lesson  which  the 
English-speaking  race  have  to  learn  is  this,  that  refinement 
of  manners,  aesthetic  culture,  and  wealth  of  intellectual  life 
can  never  atone  for  moral  impurity  ;  and  that  unless  the 
progress  of  corruption  be  stayed,  which  is  now  going  on,  fed 
by  vile  literature,  lewd  pictures,  unchaste  attire,  and  in- 
decent theatric  displays,  the  same  indignation  of  God. will 
burn  against  us.  May  all  who  have  any  influence  in  mold- 
ing the  character  of  the  nineteenth  century  never  forget 
this  lesson  of  the  first  century. 

FLORENCE. 

This  is  the  city  of  fair  flowers,  and  the  flower  of  fair 
cities.  Its  charms  of  scenery  are  conspicuous.  Few 
places  in  Italy  present  a  vision  equal  in  beauty  to  that 
which  is  spread  out  before  the  eye  of  one  standing  on  the 


176  OUT-BOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

terraces  of  San  Miniate,  or  is  seen  from  the  Boboli  Gardens, 
or  from  the  heights  from  ancient  Fiesole. 

"  Girt  by  her  theatre  of  hills  she  reaps 
Her  corn  and  wine  and  oil,  and  Plenty  leaps 
To  laughing  life,  with  her  redundant  horn. 
Along  the  banks  where  smiling  Arno  sleeps, 
"Was  modern  luxury  of  Commerce  born, 
And  buried  Learning  rose  redeemed  to  a  new  morn." 

The  lofty  Apennines  look  down  on  the  rich,  verdant 
plain  through  which  the  winding  river  flows  to  the  sea,  and 
picturesque  hillsides,  crowned  with  villas,  vineyards  and 
mulberry  groves  form  an  exquisite  framework  for  the  city, 
which  stands  in  solemn  beauty  below.  The  broad  dome  of 
its  cathedral  ;  the  graceful  campanile  of  Giotto,  "  the  mir- 
ror and  model  of  perfect  architecture,"  as  Ruskin  says  ; 
the  "  Westminster  Abbey  "  of  Santa  Croce  ;  the  lofty  tower 
of  the  ancient  palace,  rising  in  stern  and  stolid  strength 
over  a  square  which  is  full  of  tragic  memories  ;  the  churches 
and  convents,  the  gardens  and  porticos  along  the  slender 
Arno,  and  the  bridges,  new  and  old,  form  a  picture  of  most 
enticing  loveliness. 

But  as  a  leader  in  modern  art  and  science  and  religious 
activity,  Florence  has  still  higher  claims.  The  "  Athens 
of  Italy,"  the  home  of  Dante,  Galileo,  Da  Vinci,  Raphael, 
and  Brunellesco,  to-day,  as  of  old,  attracts  scholars,  sculp- 
tors, artists  and  poets.  The  scene  of  Savonarola's  toils  and 
triumphs  is  the  centre  of  evangelical  reform,  the  seat  of  the 
Waldensian  College,  the  Claudian  Press,  and  many  other 
important  auxiliaries  of  Christian  knowlege.  The  popula- 
tion of  the  city  is  not  far  from  170,000.  Its  history  is  the 
history  of  Tuscany,  of  the  Medici,  of  the  Guelphs  and 
Ghibellines,  and  of  the  barbarian  invasions  of  early  centu- 
ries. Its  somber  architecture  recalls  the  days  of  civil  strife, 
when  social  factions  fought  with  pugnacious  pride  and  bit- 
ter  rivalry.  Then  was  it  necessary  that  a  noble's  palace 
should  be  a  fortress.  Their  rugged  massiveness  speak  of 
feudal  defence  rather  than  of  modern  luxury.     Even  the 


ITALY.  1W 

ornate  churches  wear  an  unfinished  look,  and  lack  unity  of 
architectural  plan. 

Florentius,  a  celebrated  general,  gave  name  to  the  town, 
according  to  Cellini,  while  others  say  that  the  abundance 
of  lilies  and  other  flowers  suggested  it.  But  one  side  of  the 
river  was  at  first  occupied,  and  only  one  bridge  crossed  the 
Arno.  There  are  now  six  bridges,  nine  gates,  and  twenty- 
three  squares.  The  most  interesting  of  these  piazzas  is 
that  on  which  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  fronts.  This  is  the 
business  center  and  the  spot  where  Savonarola  and  two 
other  martyrs  were  burned  in  1498.  To  this  spot  my  steps 
turned  immediately  after  I  had  left  my  satchel  at  Hotel 
L'Europe.  "  Romola  "  was  fresh  in  memory,  and  the  por- 
trait of  the  reformer. 

"  It  was  the  fashion  of  old,  when  an  ox  was  led  for  sacri- 
fice to  Jupiter,  to  chalk  the  dark  spots,  and  give  the  offering 
a  false  show  of  unblemished  whiteness.  Let  us  fling  away 
the  chalk,  and  boldly  say  that  the  victim  was  spotted,  but 
it  was  not,  therefore,  in  vain  that  his  mighty  heart  was  laid 
on  the  altar  of  men's  highest  hopes."  The  sermons  of  the 
noble  friar  were  full  of  fire  and  passion,  yet  solemn  and 
pathetic.  They  held  as  by  a  spell  the  high-born  and  titled, 
as  well  as  the  rude  and  the  humble.  He  knew  that  his 
end  was  near.  The  last  words  with  which  he  closed  his 
eight  years'  preaching  in  Florence  were  these  :  "  When 
God  has  no  longer  need  of  an  instrument  he  casts  it  away." 
He  prayed  for  the  Florentines  that  they  might  see 
no  wisdom  but  in  God's  law,  no  beauty  but  God's 
holiness,  and  that  he  himself  might  be  made  like 
unto  his  Lord.  "  Lay  me  on  the  altar ;  let  my  blood 
flow,  and  the  fire  consume  me,  but  let  my  witness  be  rem- 
embered among  men,  that  iniquity  shall  not  prosper  for- 
ever." He  knew  that  his  life  was  but  a  vigil,  and  that  only 
after  death  would  come  the  dawn.  He  held  up  the  sins  of 
the  Church  and  government  with  thrilling  power,  "  dealing 
in  no  polite  periphrases,  but  sending  forth  a  voice  that 
would  be  heard  through  all  Christendom,  and  making  the 


178  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

dead  body  of  the  Church  tremble  into  new  life,  as  the  body 
of  Lazarus  trembled  when  the  Divine  voice  pierced  the 
sepulchre."  To  degrade  him  in  the  eyes  of  the  people  he 
was  put  to  the  torture.  Under  it  his  delicate  nervous 
system  yielded,  and  he  recanted.  But  these  incoherent 
answers,  wrung  out  of  him  in  a  delirium  of  pain,  were  re- 
called with  returning  breath.  After  a  month  he  was  again 
tortured,  but  nothing  could  be  gained.  His  execution, 
however,  was  fixed. 

On  the  morning  of  May  23  he  and  his  associates, 
unfrocked  and  degraded,  were  marched  to  the  stake.  Sal- 
vestro  wished  to  speak  to  the  crowd,  but  Savonarola  en- 
joined silence  in  memory  of  the  Saviour,  who  on  the  cross 
spoke  no  words  of  self -vindication.  When  the  papal  com- 
missioner excommunicated  him  from  "  the  Church  militant 
and  triumphant,"  he  calmly  said:  '"  From  the  Church  mili- 
tant, not  from  the  Church  triumphant;  that  is  beyond  your 
power."  We  are  told  that  a  strong  wind  that  morning 
blew  across  the  city,  and  for  a  while  the  flames  were  beaten 
back.  The  right  hand  of  the  sainted  martyr,  unconsumed, 
was  seen  moving  in  the  fire,  blessing  the  city  that  sought 
his  blood.  His  remains  were  thrown  into  the  Arno,  but 
noble  Florentine  ladies  secured  relics  that  were  long  kept 
as  sacred  heirlooms.  Year  after  year  the  place  was  strewn 
with  flowers  on  each  recurring  anniversary,  and  medals 
stamped  with  bis  face  and  name  were  circulated,  bearing 
the  inscription,  "  Doctor  and  martyr,  apostle  and  prophet 
of  God."  Thirty  years  after,  when  the  republic  was  free 
from  the  Medici,  his  sermons  were  publicly  repeated,  and 
his  hymns  again  were  sung  in  the  streets.  So,  too,  after 
three  hundred  years'  thrall,  his  name  again  became  a  power 
in  the  revival  of  Florentine  liberty.  An  ancient  pictm-e  of 
the  martyrdom,  painted  by  Fra  Bartolomeo,  hangs  in  the 
cell  where  Savonarola  studied  at  the  convent  of  San 
Marco,  and  I  was  glad  to  purchase  a  photographic  copy  of 
this  original.  Raphael  painted  him  among  the  worthies 
in  the  very  halls  of  the  Vatican,  and  Pope  Alexander  VI. 


ITALY.  179 

declared  his  writings  to  be  free  from  all  blame.  Better 
than  all,  Martin  Luther,  who  was  fourteen  years  old  when 
Savonarola  was  murdered,  was  raised  up  to  carry  on  the 
work  of  reformation.  This  illustrious  champion  of  the  truth 
wielded  still  wider  sway  over  men,  "  till  the  nations  paused 
to  hear,  and  listening  centuries  clasped  hands  around  his 
pulpit."  Thus  the  blood  of  martyrs  again  proved  to  be 
the  seed  of  the  Church. 

Neptune's  fountain  on  this  spot  now  pours  clear  water 
from  tritons  and  sea-horses.  Michael  Angelo  used  to  sit 
near  it  in  his  old  age  and  contemplate  his  colossal  "  David," 
now  in  the  Academy.  This  is  a  much-admired  and  much- 
studied  statue.  Many  of  the  criticisms  of  this  great  wofk 
since  the  sculptor's  death  are  as  fanciful  as  those  at  the 
time  of  its  -chiseling.  One  day,  in  apparent  obedience  to 
the  suggestion  of  a  fault-finder,  Angelo  climbed  the  ladder 
and  pretended  to  make  an  alteration,  dropping  the  while 
marble  dust  or  chips,  which  he  had  stealthily  carried  up 
with  him.  He  descended,  without  having  made  the 
slightest  change,  to  receive  the  enthusiastic  commendation 
of  his  pleased  but  ignorant  townsman,  whom  he  had  so 
cleverly  duped. 

The  "  god-like  Perseus,  with  brow  and  sword,  superbly 
calm,"  as  Mrs.  Browning  describes  it,  stands  in  the  open 
gallery  under  the  shadow  of  the  tower,  330  feet  high,  which 
rises  from  the  palace.  Dungeons  within  this  prison  and 
fortress  were  occupied  by  Savonarola  and  others  of  whom 
the  world  was  not  worthy.  There  was  an  opening  through 
the  high  tower  communicating  with  a  well  below,  through 
which  the  doomed  were  dropped  to  darkness  and  to  death. 

This  square,  which  so  often  echoed  to  the  shock  of  arms 
and  the  turbulent  shouts  of  mobs,  now  is  filled  with  the 
hum  of  busy  and  peaceful  industiy.  The  same  ceaseless 
chatter  runs  on  like  a  mill  when  the  Arno  is  full,  whether 
there  be  grist  or  not,  so  that  you  may  put  tow  in  your  ears, 
as  Piero  the  painter  did,  as  a  sign  of  contempt.  Tessa  the 
sweet  milk-maid,  or  her  duplicate,  is  still  seen;  Bratti  the 


180  OUT-BOOB  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

trader  and  Tito  the  Greek;  Bardo  the  toilful  scholar,  "  a 
learned  porcupine  bristling  all  over  with  critical  tests,  to 
whom  an  error  or  indistinctness  in  the  text  is  more  painful 
than  sudden  darkness  or  obstacle  across  his  path,  and  now 
and  then  some  fair  Romola,  with  flute-like  voices,  "  dulcis, 
durabilis,  clara,  pura,  secans  sera  et  auribus  sedens."  The 
priest  in  black  gown,  the  beggar  in  rags,  the  sleek  waiter 
in  white  cravat  at  the  cafe  door,  the  flower-girl,  the  fruit- 
seller,  and  the  street-singer  mingle  in  the  cheerful,  busy 
crowds  that  throng  this  and  neighboring  localities  in  the 
heart  of  the  city. 

A  burial  at  night  was  one  of  the  novelties  of  out-door 
life  that  attracted  my  attention.  Members  of  a  confra- 
ternity took  charge  of  the  funeral.  Their  hideous  garb 
looked  like  that  of  a  Ku-Klux  gang.  The  lurid  glare  of 
torches  in  the  darkness,  and  the  monotonous  chant  that 
was  sung,  added  to  the  repulsiveness  of  the  ceremony. 
The  rude  crowds  gathered  along  the  ways  to  gaze  with 
curiosity  as  the  noisy  performers  passed.  The  night  before 
I  was  aroused  from  sleep  by  the  yelling  of  a  similar  band 
who  were  hastening  to  a  church,  I  was  told,  to  go  through 
certain  performances  for  some  one  who  was  sick.  What  a 
pity  that  they  had  not  heard  of  the  portable  "  Extract  of 
prayer,"  advertised  by  the  worshipers  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
at  Nimes.  This  extract  is  enclosed  in  a  scapular,  which  is 
simply  pressed  to  the  breast,  and  thus  the  prayer  is  said. 
"  It  costs  but  one  franc,  and  is  suitable  for  persons  who 
have  not  much  time  to  pray."  This  mummery  is  as  sensi- 
ble as  that  of  the  Parisian  who  limited  his  praying  to  New 
Year's  day,  when  he  recited  a  prayer  three  hours  long, 
and  then  on  each  morning  through  the  year  simply  said 
"  Ditto." 

There  is  much  of  superstition  and  priestcraft  yet  re- 
maining here,  but  Italy  is  surely  advancing.  Seven 
Protestant  denominations,  with  scores  of  schools,  are 
planted  in  Rome  alone,  and  their  motto  is,  "Here  we  are, 
and  here  we  shall  stay  !  "     The  States  of  the  Church  have 


ITALY.  181 

passed  from  the  map  of  the  world  for  the  first  time  for  a 
hundred  years,  and  when,  on  the  morning  of  September 
20,  1870,  the  cannon  of  Emanuel  rolled  up  to  the  Quirinal 
Palace,  heavier  ordnance  moved  along  with  it,  the  artillery 
of  another  Immanuel,  even  a  load  of  Bibles,  Italy's  hope 
of  redemption  !  That  humble  dog-cart,  loaded  by  colpor- 
teurs with  the  word  of  God,  moving  through  Portia  Pia 
between  50,000  bristling  bayonets  of  Sardinian  troops,  had 
a  more  thrilling  significance  that  all  the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance of  war.  So,  too,  a  little  later,  there  occurred 
another  incident,  unknown  to  the  world,  but  which  marked 
an  epoch  in  the  world's  advancement.  It  was  midnight. 
A  Waldensian  printer  was  in  his  office.  He  had  deter- 
mined to  print  the  Italian  Scriptures  in  Rome,  not  in  some 
secure  corner  either,  but  under  the  very  eye  of  him  whose 
bubble  of  infallibility  had  so  suddenly  burst.  The  forms 
were  ready  for  the  press  at  twelve  o'clock.  A  friend  of 
mine — an  American  clergyman  from  whom  I  have  this 
incident — knew  what  was  to  be  done  that  night,  and  could 
not  sleep  for  excitement.  He  called  a  carriage,  and  with  a 
daughter,  also  a  pioneer  missionary,  rode  to  the  office  just 
at  the  moment.  Each  in  turn  grasped  the  wheel,  and, 
with  emotions  of  gratitude  to  God  which  they  could  not 
describe,  helped  to  print  the  first  sheets  of  the  first  Bible, 
the  unbound  word  of  God,  which  is,  as  Chevalier  Bunsen 
says,  "the  only  basis  of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  the  only 
real  cement  of  nations." 

"  The  whole  hope  of  human  progress,"  adds  the  lamented 
Secretary  Seward,  "is  suspended  on  the  ever-growing  in- 
fluence of  the  Bible."  The  Saints  of  Italy  salute  us.  Pope 
and  Pagan  need  no  longer  terrify.  One  has  been  dead 
many  a  day,  and  the  other  has  grown  stiff  in  his  joints  and 
can  do  little  more  than  now  "  sit  in  his  cave's  mouth  grin- 
ning at  pilgrims  as  they  go  by,  and  biting  his  nails  be- 
cause he  cannot  come  at  them."  The  imprisonment  and 
sufferings  of  Rosa  and  Francesco  Madiai  for  Bible-reading, 
and  hundreds  of  others  in  Florence  in  T853,  aroused  the  in- 


182  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

dignation  of  the  world.  The  English  and  American  gov- 
ernments expressed  their  feelings  to  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Tuscany,  but  to  the  French  Government  did  the  captives 
finally  owe  their  liberation,  thanks  to  the  "  Yorkshire  good 
sense  of  Mr.  Ward,  the  most  confidential  agent  of  his 
government,  who  suggested  that  the  concession  should  be 
made  to  France,"  to  save  the  loss  of  dignity  involved  in 
yielding  merety  to  Lord  Russell's  menaces  and  other  serious 
threats."*  The  reluctance  with  which  the  Duke  yielded, 
and  the.  way  in  which  he  thrust  them  out  of  his  domain, 
reflected  no  honor  on  him.  To  avoid  publicity  they  were 
taken  away  with  the  prison  garb  on,  hurried  on  board  a 
Leghorn  steamer,  shipped  to  Marsailles  under  a  false  name, 
and  no  notice  was  given  the  British  minister  at  Florence. 
The  telegraph,  however,  told  the  world  of  it  in  a  few 
hours,  and  the  enemies  of  religious  freedom  learned  a 
lesson  that  has  never  been  forgotten.  Joseph,  the  Aus- 
trian Emperor,  remembered  it  and  dared  not  turn  a  deaf 
ear  to  the  respectful  but  emphatic  protest  of  the  Basle  Alli- 
ance. He  saw  that  the  papal  power  could  not,  in  Bohemian 
fastnesses,  hound  to  death  the  children  of  John  Huss  with- 
out insulting  the  ciAalization  of  the  age. 

To-day  the  Waldensians,  "the  front  line  of  heroes,  with 
the  scars  of  thirty  persecutions  on  them,"  number  in  Italy 
88  churches  and  mission  stations,  15,000  communicants, 
4400  in  Sunday  Schools.  Add  a  half  a  dozen  other  de- 
nominations, and  we  have  a  large  and  effective  force. 
Besides  these  there  are  other  agencies  like  the  Gould 
Memorial  School,  sustained  by  American  and  British 
Christians,  which  are  beacon  lights  of  truth  and  liberty. 
In  connection  with  these  events  one  will  visit  the  large 
hall  in  Florence  with  interest,  where  Victor  Eman- 
uel opened  his  first  Parliament.  The  former  home  of 
Mrs.   E.  B.  Browning  at  Casa  Guidi   and  the  graves   of 

*  Letter  of    British  Chaplain,  "Evangelical  Christendom/'  vol 
yii,,  p.  153. 


ITALY.  183 

Trollope,  Landor  and  Theodore  Parker  are  not  without 
interest. 

The  Cascine,  or  public  park,  by  the  shore  of  the  Arno  is 
a  kind  of  social  exchange,  where  foreigners  meet  and 
flower-girls  gather  with  their  fragrant  merchandise.  You 
see  the  carriages  of  English  lords,  Russian  nobles,  and 
French  princes  jostling  each  other.  Others  are  on  horse- 
back, titled  or  unknown.  Then  there  are  multitudes,  just 
as  good,  who  prefer  to  saunter  along  on  foot  to  enjoy  the 
pleasant  shade,  the  sunset  hues  of  the  river,  and  the  distant 
openings. 

Still  more  beautiful  on  a  sultry  day  is  the  quiet  retreat 
of  the  Boboli  Gardens,  with  its  gay  parterres  of  flowers, 
its  undulating  avenues  and  pine,  its  waterfalls,  lakes,  and 
grottos,  with  many  quaint  and  colossal  statues,  single  and 
in  groups,  carved  by  Angelo  and  others.  This  spot  is  said 
to  be  the  favorite  resort  of  English  children  whose  nurses 
have  made  it  a  sort  of  "  infant  exchange,  from  the  baby  of 
two  summers  to  the  little  damsel  of  ten  or  twelve,  already 
beginning  to  draw  herself  up  and  look  dignified.  Their 
animated  movements  and  happy  voices  give  life  and  music 
to  a  scene  worthy  of  a  pencil  of  Correggio.  The  whole 
fashion  of  the  place  speaks  of  the  luxury  of  shade,  and  of 
defences  against  an  intrusive  sun  ;  high  verdurous  walls  to 
refresh  the  eye,  dazzled  with  the  fervors  of  summer's  noon  ; 
sun-proof  roofs  of  foliage,  woven  when  the  freshness  and 
coolness  of  the  morning  long  lingers  and  slowly  retires. 
In  these  very  gardens  Milton  may  have  had  suggested  to 
him  his  image  of  the  Indian  herdsman 

"  '  That  tends  his  pasturing  herds 
At  loop-holes  cut  through  thickest  shade.'  " 

No  wonder  that  the  Florentine  calls  his  home  Firenze  la 
betta. 

Of  indoor  sights  in  Florence  no  detailed  description  can 
be  given.  On  Sunday  I  visited  Santa  Croce,  within  whose 
precincts    lie    the    remains    of   Angelo,   Alfieri,    Galileo, 


184  OtTT-DOOE  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

Machiave'lli  and  other  illustrious  dead.  I  saw  a  service  in 
which  a  little  boy  received  the  sacrament  alone,  other 
smaller  children  with  their  mothers  kneeling  on  the  altar 
steps  behind  them.  An  aged  female  beggar  received  my 
last  coin,  for  her  sad  face  and  friendless  aspect  moved  my 
sympathies  as  common  mendicants  rarely  do.  I  also 
passed  the  church  of  San  Lorenzo,  said  to  have  been  reared 
in  393  by  a  pious  mother  as  a  thank-offering  for  a  son 
born  to  her,  whom  she  named  Lorenzo.  Standing  at  the 
bronze  tablet  which  marks  the  spot  where  Dante  used  to 
sit  to  gaze  upon  Brunelleschi's  dome  and  Giotto's  tower,  I 
gazed,  at  the  twilight  hour,  upon  what  Longfellow  has  well 

called 

"  A  vision,  a  delight,  and  a  desire, 
The  builder's  perfect  and  perennial  flower." 

This  campanile  is  275  feet  high,  and  combines  character- 
istics of  power  and  beauty,  according  to  Ruskin,  as  no 
other  edifice  in  the  world  ;  a  "  bright,  smooth,  sunny  sur- 
face of  glowing  jasper  ;  spiral  shafts  and  fair  traceries,  so 
white,  so  faint,  so  crystalline,  that  their  slight  shapes  are 
hardly  traced  in  darkness  on  the  pallor  of  the  eastern  sky  ; 
a  serene  height  of  mountain  alabaster,  colored  like  a  morn- 
ing cloud,  and  chased  like  a  sea-shell.  Is  there  not  some- 
thing to  be  learned  by  looking  back  to  the  early  life  of 
him  who  raised  it  ?  Not  within  the  walls  of  Florence,  but 
among  the  far-away  fields  of  her  lilies  was  the  child 
trained  who  was  to  raise  that  headstone  of  Beauty  above 
her  towers  of  watch  and  war:  The  legend  upon  his  crown 
was  that  of  David's,  '  I  took  thee  from  the  sheepcote  and 
from  following  the  sheep.' " 

Close  by  is  the  Baptistery  with  its  three  bronze  doors, 
on  two  of  which  Ghiberti  expended  foi'ty  years  of  toil 
Michael  Angelo  said  that  they  were  worthy  to  be  the  gates 
of  Paradise.  They  represent  scripture  scenes  and  swing 
on  porphyry  columns  which  were  a  gift  from  Pisa  in  1200. 
The  Cathedral,  opposite,  abounds  in  historic  associations. 
As  you  wander  through  the  dusky  aisles  and  read  the 


ITALY.  185 

blurred  inscriptions  ;  or  look  up  into  its  double  dome,  the 
first  reared  in  Europe,  the  specific  gravity  of  every  brick 
of  which  the  architect,  it  is  believed,  ascertained  before 
he  laid  it ;  or  stand  at  the  altar  where  one  of  the  Medici 
fell  before  the  murderous  blow  of  Pazzi,  who  sought  to 
give  liberty  to  Florence  ;  or  look  on  the  banners  borne  to 
the  Holy  Land  in  the  time  of  the  Crusades  ;  or  think  of 
the  burning  words  of  Savonarola  that  were  once  heard 
here  by  spell-bound  congregations,  you  seem  to  be  disen- 
gaged from  the  affairs  of  this  present  time,  and  living 
among  the  actors  and  the  scenes  of  long  passed  centuries. 

Passing  the  old  Bargello,  once  the  residence  of  the 
Podesta,  or  chief  magistrate  of  Florence,  then  a  prison 
with  trap -doors  and  instruments  of  torture,  you  recall  the 
stories  of  ancient  cruelty  perpetrated  there,  such  as  walling 
into  the  masonry  living  captives.  Headley  tells  of  a  skele- 
ton examined  by  him  and  by  an  English  physician.  It 
stood  in  the  wall  of  a  church  an  hour's  ride  out  of  the  city. 
It  had  been  there  centuries,  and  was  accidentally  discovered 
while  making  alterations,  yet  suffered  to  remain  undis- 
turbed, an  object  of  dread,  and,  doubtless,  a  source  of  gain. 
The  surgeon,  though  familiar  with  skeletons,  was  greatly 
affected  by  his  scrutiny  of  the  ghastly  relic.  The  ragged 
masonry  had  been  built  from  the  feet  upward  while  the 
man  was  alive.  The  bones  of  the  toes  are  curled  and  con- 
tracted in  the  last  agony  of  suffocation.  The  arms  also 
indicate  a  painful  effort  as  if  for  freedom,  and  the  shoulders 
are  elevated  as  when  one  gasps  for  breath.  No  coffin  or 
grave-clothes  were  there,  for  it  was  a  clear  case  of  murder. 
The  man  must  have  been  six  feet  high  and  had  a  powerful 
frame.  He  died  hard.  What  a  picture  imagination  paints 
of  such  a  scene  !— the  struggle  before  he  was  bound  and 
placed  in  the  jagged  niche  ;  the  hurried  dash  of  mortar 
and  ring  of  trowel  on  the  settling  stone  ;  the  slow  rising 
of  the  wall  over  the  stiffening  knees  and  beating  breast 
and  praying  lips,  till  only  the  white  forehead  remained  ; 
the  last  fragment  fitted  and  the  murderous  deed  complete  J 


186  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

And  all  this  in  a  Christian  church  dedicated  to  the  beloved 
disciple  ! 

In  1865  the  Bargello  was  remodeled  for  a  National 
Museum.  The  courtyard  where  once  the  scaffold,  the 
wheel,  the  axe  and  halter  were  seen  is  now  adorned  with 
the  arms  of  the  Podestas.  In  this  and  other  museums, 
libraries,  galleries  of  pictures,  the  stranger  may  well  linger 
for  days  and  even  weeks.  Here  are  statues  "  that  enchant 
the  world,"  and  paintings  that  are  the  perfection  of  art. 
You  see  also  the  telescopes  and  other  instruments  used  by 
Galileo  in  his  nightly  study  of  the  starry  heavens,  and  his 
very  finger  in  a  bottle,  the  relic  having  been  stolen  from 
his  tomb  ;  you  hold  the  crutch  and  slippers  of  Michael 
Angelo  and  recall  his  last  words  on  that  wintry  morning, 
when  in  1563  he  entered  the  heavenly  world,  almost  90 
years  old  :  "  In  your  passage  through  this  life,  never,  never 
forget  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ ";  you  look  on 
memorials  of  the  appalling  scenes  of  the  plague  described 
in  the  Decamerone  of  Boccaccio,  till  you  fairly  smell  the 
charnel-house,  the  corjjse  and  worm,  and  rush  out  into 
the  bright  sunshine  and  busy  streets,  asking  with  Long- 
fellow, "  Can  this  gay  city  have  ever  been  the  city  of  the 
plague,  and  this  pure  air  laden  with  the  pestilence  ?  " 

A  delightful  visit  may  be  made  to  the  monastery  about 
which  Milton  loved  to  wander,  an  ancient  pile  embowered 
in  sombre  groves  of  pine  and  oak,  of  chestnut  and  of  beech, 
filled  with  ambrosial  sweets,  hence  its  name  Yal  Ambrosia. 
The  reference  to  it  in  "  Paradise  Lost  "  has  made  it  im- 
mortal. 

"  Which  as  autumnal  leaves  that  strew  the  brooks 
In  Vallombrosa,  whose  Etrurian  shades 
High-arched  embower." 

There,  too,  the  author  of  the  "  Divina  Commedia ''  de- 
lighted to  rest,  where 

"  Mountains  live  in  holy  families, 
And  the  slow  pine  woods  ever  climb  and  climb 


ITALY.  187 

Half  up  their  breasts  ;  just  stagger  as  they  seize 
Some  gray  cliff,  drop  back  into  it  many  a  time, 
And  struggle  blindly  down  the  precipice." 

Beckf orcl  confirms  the  accuracy  of  Milton's  simile,  for  lie 
says,  "  Showers  of  leaves  blew  full  in  our  faces  as  we 
approached  the  convent,"  an  incident,  indeed,  true  of  every 
forest  the  world  over.  But  though  there  are  many  forests, 
there  are  few  Miltons.  The  briefest  reference  by  a  great 
author  is  ofttimes  quite  sufficient  to  lift  into  conspicuous 
importance  what  would  be  otherwise  commonplace. 

VENICE. 

Here  we  are  in  old,  romantic  Venice,  the  Queen  of  the 
Adriatic  !  History,  literature,  art,  and  song  have  thrown 
a  charm  about  this  jeweled  bride  of  the  sea  that  makes 
her  attractive  even  in  her  decay.  That  strange  spell  with 
which  Venice  holds  the  traveler  is  found  in  no  other  city 
on  the  globe.  Once  "  the  Autocrat  of  Commerce,  the 
Mother  of  Republics,  the  oldest  Child  of  Liberty,"  now  she 
is  a  silent  and  forsaken  town,  more  than  one-quarter  of 
whose  population  receive  relief  as  paupers.  Prof.  J.  S. 
Blackie  writes: 

"  City  of  palaces,  Venice,  once  enthroned 
Secure,  a  queen  'mid  fence  of  flashing  waters, 
Whom  East  and  West  with  rival  homage  owned 
A  wealthy  mother  with  fair  trooping  daughters, 
What  art  thou  now  ?    Thy  walls  are  gray  and  old  : 
In  thy  lone  hall  the  spider  weaves  his  woof. 
A  leprous  crust  creeps  o'er  thy  house  of  gold, 
And  the  cold  rain  drips  through  the  pictured  roof. 
The  frequent  ringing  of  thy  churchly  bells 
Proclaims  a  faith  but  half -believed  by  few ; 
Thy  palaces  are  trimmed  into  hotels, 
And  traveling  strangers,  a  vague-wondering  crew, 
Noting  thy  stones,  with  guide-book  in  their  hand, 
Leave  half  the  wTealth  that  lingers  in  the  land." 

I  alighted  at  evening  from  the  railway  carriage  at  the 
long  lagoon  bridge,  and  stepped  into   a  gondola,      The 


188  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

simple  mention  of  the  word  "Victoria"  was  sufficient. 
The  boat  glided  off  noiselessly,  with  a  steady,  rhythmic 
throb  that  neither  jarred  nor  tipped,  but  impelled  it  with  a 
swift,  measured  movement  wholly  unique.  The  single  im- 
pression that  for  the  moment  swallowed  up  all  other 
thoughts  was  the  solemn  silence  that  brooded  over  every- 
thing. The  stillness  of  Pompeii  is  one  thing,  but  that  of 
Venice  is  quite  another.  The  absence  of  horses,  of  ve- 
hicles, of  the  sounds  of  busy  streets  and  active  industry  ; 
and  the  dark,  slimy  water,  which,  as  Charles  Dickens 
somewhere  says,  stuffs  its  weeds  and  refuse  into  the  chinks 
as  if  the  marble  walls,  the  stones,  and  bars  had  mouths  to 
stop,  conspired  to  awe,  if  not  to  depress.  At  Pompeii 
there  was  the  quiet  of  a  church-yard — simply  that  of  a 
lonely,  deserted  place  ;  but  here  were  the  living,  men  who 
seemed  to  move  stealthily  with  slippered  feet.  The  hush 
and  mystery  of  life  and  motion  appeared  to  me  to  be  in 
keeping  with  the  remembered  history  of  the  place,  full 
of  secrecy  and  dark  suspicion.  I  thought  of  the  spies 
that  four  hundred  years  ago  used  to  haunt  every  place, 
moving  almost  as  invisible  and  omnipresent  as  the  air, 
obedient  to 

"  A  power  that  never  slumbered,  never  pardoned  ; 
All  eye,  all  ear,  nowhere  and  everywhere  ; 
Entering  the  closet  and  the  sanctuary, 
Most  present  when  least  thought  of — nothing  dropped 
In  secret,  when  the  heart  was  on  the  lips, 
Nothing  in  feverish  sleep,  but  instantly 
Observed  and  judged.     .     .     .     Let  one  indulge 
A  word,  a  thought  against  the  laws  of  Venice, 
And  in  that  hour  he  vanished  from  the  earth  ! " 

An  evening  ramble  through  the  busiest  centers  of  the 
town  did  not  wholly  correct  the  first  impressions,  which 
were  decidedly  sombre.  The  cloudy  sky  and  my  weariness 
after  a  day's  ride  over  the  Apennines — 182  miles  from 
Florence — had  something  to  do  with  these  feelings.  A  re- 
freshing sleep  and  a  bright  morning  sunlight  put  a  different 
look  on  things, 


ITALY.  189 

Dr.  Loomis,  in  his  "  Central  Europe,"  makes  the  popu- 
lation 130,000,  dwelling  on  117  islands,  connected  by  378 
bridges.  A  consular  government  was  founded  in  421  ;  the 
ducal,  697  ;  independence  of  Venice  ceased  in  1797  ; 
Austria  held  rule  till  1866,  when  the  city  united  with  Italy. 
But  within  these  bald  outlines  what  a  history  is  included, 
full  of  startling  vicissitudes,  of  glory,  and  of  shame  !  It  is 
a  marvel  and  a  contradiction.  Commerce  was  wedded  to 
nobility,  liberty  to  despotism,  refinement  to  barbaric 
cruelty.  From  the  days  of  Gothic  invasion  down  to  the 
battles  of  Marengo  and  Solferino,  this  sea-girt  city  has 
floated  "  like  the  ark  amid  a  thousand  wrecks,"  enriched 
with  spoils  from  many  lands.  For  centuries  a  haughty 
ruler  of  the  waters,  now  she  is  only  rich  in  the  memories 
of  the  past. 

A    GONDOLA   EXCURSION. 

A  gondola  excursion,  of  course,  was  first  in  order  that 
beautiful  morning,  before  the  heat  of  the  day  became 
oppressive.  These  black  barges  are  a  study.  Once  they 
were  gay  and  luxurious  in  appearance  ;  but  the  republic 
rebuked  the  pretentious  display  of  the  nobles,  and  clothed 
them  all  in  sable,  like  so  many  hearses.  They  are  nearly 
thirty  feet  long,  lined  with  cloth  or  velvet,  and  furnished 
with  pillows  or  morocco  cushions.  There  is  a  movable 
cabin  with  windows,  curtains,  and  mirrors.  This  is  in  the 
middle,  and  may  easily  be  replaced  by  an  awning.  The 
prow  rises  high,  like  a  swan's  neck,  to  match  the  height  of 
the  cabin  ;  heavy,  to  balance  the  weight  of  the  rower  ;  and 
is  of  sharp,  shining  steel,  with  threatening  teeth  and  edge. 
The  gondolier  stands  in  the  stern,  skillfully  sculling  and 
steering  by  side  row-locks.  He  often  utters  a  sharp  word 
of  warning  as  he  hails  a  boat  or  turns  an  angle.  Scarfs, 
ribbons,  plumes,  and  gay  caps  were  once  worn,  but  now  are 
rarely  seen. 

The  boatmen  I  happened  to  meet  were  prosaic.  Their 
dress  was  scant  and  poor,  their  figures  unimposing.  No 
songs  of   Tasso  a«d  Ariosto   were  warbled  by  their  lips 


190  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

along  the  echoing  canals.  Money  was  in  their  thought 
rather  than  poetry  and  song,  art  or  romance.  Occasionally 
their  silence  was  broken  by  a  word  or  hybrid  phrase,  half 
English  and  half  Italian,  to  indicate  a  locality.  Perhaps 
you  make  out,  "  House  of  Desdemona,  who  married  the 
Moor,"  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  high  arched  windows, 
lacework  carvings,  lofty  escutcheon,  or  blossoming  olean- 
der, beneath  the  trellis  where  once  the  fair  daughter  of 
Brabantio  stood  ;  or  you  may  catch  the  word  "  Shylock," 
and  see  the  window  where  Jessica  escaped — ducats  and 
daughter  going  in  one  fateful  hour  ;  or  you  may  be  pointed 
out  the  house  where  Byron  spent  days  of  dissipation,  and 
think  of  the  exquisite  fourth  canto  of  "  Childe  Harold." 

Be  not  troubled  if  you  notice,  arising  from  the  green 
slime  along  the  watery  street,  something  more  pungent 
than  the  rose  and  magnolia,  heliotrope  and  jasmine  in  the 
windows  ;  for,  with  all  the  glamour  of  poetry  about  the  city, 
there  are  some  things  that  are  thoroughly  unromantic. 
When  compelled  to  yield  to  the  request  of  his  guest  for 
an  inside  room,  which  did  not  take  up  the  odors  of  the 
water,  a  good-natured  German  landlord  replied,  "  Ja,  ja, 
mein  herr  ;  it  is  a  goot  canal  enof  ;  'tis  only  ven  de  tide  is 
out  she  schmells  !  " 

THE    EIALTO    AND    THE    PALACES. 

I  left  my  gondola  at  the  Rialto  long  enough  to  cross  and 
recross  this  bridge,  a  single  marble  arch,  91  feet  span,  rest- 
ing on  12,000  piles.  There  are  a  score  of  shops,  with  fruit, 
jewelry,  and  fancy  wares,  which  were  ranged  along  the 
covered  ways.  Shylock's  Rialto,  however,  was  not  the 
bridge,  but  a  neighboring  square.  Here  it  was  that  Anto- 
nio's losses  Avere  talked  over  by  the  merchants,  and  there 
the  Jew  was  rated  and  spit  upon.  Rialto,  rivo  alto,  deep 
sti'eam,  was  the  first  island  inhabited,  and  was  long  the  port 
of  Padua. 

Though  moldy  and  yellow,  the  architecture  of  Venice 
is  varied  and  rich.     There  is  a  language  in  the  lines,  angles. 


ITALY.  191 

arches,  spaces,  and  perspective  of  these  Venetian  stones, 
built  up,  as  Ruskin  says,  into  "  graceful  arcades  and  gleam- 
ing walls,  veined  with  azure,  warm  with  gold,  and  fretted 
with  white  sculpture,  like  frost  upon  forest,  branches  turned 
to  marble."  The  energy  of  the  Lombard  architecture  is 
here  wedded  to  the  spirituality  of  the  Arabic  and  the  beauty 
of  the  Romanesque.  But,  as  in  Pompeii,  there  is  here 
more  than  the  critical  details  of  art  to  occupy  our  thought. 
We  remember  that  only  a  few  inches  of  marble  covered 
violence,  corruption,  and  cruelty.  "  Through  century  after 
century  of  gathering  vanity  and  festering  guilt,  the  white 
dome  of  St.  Mark's  had  uttered,  in  the  deaf  ear  of  Venice, 
-  Know  thou,  that  for  all  these  things  God  will  bring  thee 
into  judgment.'  " 

Casa  d'Oro  stands  supreme  among  the  places,  built  about 
the  year  1350  with  most  fanciful  ornateness,  and  covered 
with  gold,  as  some  believe.  Others  say  that  the  Dora 
family  gave  their  name  to  it.  The  poll  or  posts  that  once 
marked  a  nobleman's  residence  still  bear  heraldic  colors. 
The  gondolier  also'  pointed  me  to  the  Foscari  Palace,  the 
Balbi  and  Pisani  ;  but  I  saw  no  cloth  of  gold  hung  from 
the  windows,  nor  Venetian  ladies,  decked  with  barbaric 
gems,  gazing  out,  as  when  the  republic  welcomed  home 
their  victorious  galleys  laden  with  Eastern  spoils.  I  did 
not  land  again,  for  the  sun  was  climbing  high,  and  its 
garish  rays  showed  too  clearly  the  rust  and  wrinkles  on  the 
faded  beauty  of  other  days.  The  heat,  too,  was  noticeable 
and  a  noon  nap  seemed  to  be  in  order.  This  was  enjoyed 
in  cool,  quiet  quarters.  These  marble  palaces,  which  the 
best  Italian  hotels  now  occupy,  may  be  uncomfortable 
enough  in  winter,  but  in  midsummer  I  found  them  \ery 
agreeable.  Over  the  smooth,  shining  mosaic  which  formed 
the  floor,  mats  were  laid  here  and  there,  and  a  lace  netting 
formed  a  part  of  the  canopy  over  the  couch.  The  height 
of  the  room  nearly  equaled  its  other  dimensions,  so  that 
in  this  spacious  stony  cube  I  had  ample  ventilation  with 
the  swinging  window-frames  thrown  open.     Meals  could 


192  OUT-BOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

be  had  at  any  hour,  and  of  almost  any  kind,  provided  your 
patience  and  your  purse  held  out. 

After  his  visit  at  Venice,  Charles  Dickens  wrote  to  Lady 
Blessington,  with  charming  humor,  that  his  purse  had 
always  been  open  and  all  Italy  yearned  to  have  its  hand  in 
it  ;  that  he  meant  to  hang  it  up  as  a  trophy,  with  its 
memorial  marks — one  recalling  a  single  payment  of  500 
francs  for  horses  ;  another  witnessing  to  a  hotel  charge 
thrice  the  correct  amount,  which  was  paid  ;  a  third  telling 
of  greedy  custom-house  officials,  and  so  on  ;  and  that  he 
meant  finally  to  bequeath  it  to  his  son,  saying,  "  Take  it, 
hoj,  thy  father  had  nothing  else  to  give  !  "  The  Swiss 
Economist  says  that  the  rise  in  hotel  charges  is  principally 
due  to  the  extravagance  of  American  visitors,  whose  aver- 
age expenditures  are  two  to  three  thousand  dollars  each. 
This  estimate  is  high,  but  there  are,  doubtless,  multitudes 
of  idlers  who  delight  in  pretentious  display,  and  return 
home,  after  six  months'  travel,  with  their  brains  as  empty 
as  Dickens'  purse.  I  met  a  party  of  three  or  four  Mary- 
landers,  who  gave  me  the  unsolicited  information  that  they 
had  "done"  Europe  to  the  tune  of  $50,000.  They  seemed 
to  be  posted  as  to  the  matter  of  wines,  but  deplorably 
destitute  of  common  sense. 

OUTDOOR    RAMBLES. 

Street  life  varies  at  every  stage  of  your  journey,  for 
there  are  many  modifying  circumstances,  even  where  the 
climate  is  uniform.  The  character  of  the  people,  their 
intelligence,  thrift  and  industry  ;  the  traditional  usages  of 
society  ;  the  municipal  regulations  ;  the  topographical 
features  of  a  citj  ;  its  style  of  architecture  and  its  sur- 
roundings— all  these  change  the  picture  Avhich  its  streets 
present.  The  isolation  of  Venice  and  the  absence  of  streets 
and  open  gardens  at  once  strike  your  attention.  You 
find  the  houses  of  irregular  shape  and  size,  huddled  together 
with  alleys  between  so  narrow  you  can  almost  reach  across. 
One  lower  door  may  answer  for  several  families,  and  the  win- 


ITALY.  193 

dows  on  the  ground  floor  are  barred  with  iron.  Venetian 
blinds  are  not  found  in  Venice,  but  solid  shutters  are  used. 
Iron  balconies  jut  out  on  narrow  brackets,  as  do  chimney 
flues.  The  plaster  stoves  are  said  to  be  good  eaters  and  poor 
heaters.  A  scaldino  is  often  carried  from  place  to  place 
filled  with  burning  charcoal,  during  the  four  cold  months. 

The  dress  of  the  people  exhibits  the  usual  variety  inci- 
dent to  position  and  employment.  Here  is  a  learned  monk 
with  shorn  pate,  and  there  a  gay  lounger,  "  affluent  of  hair 
but  indigent  of  brain."  The  one  has  his  mass-book  and 
beads  ;  the  other,  in  velvet  doublet  and  long  hose,  tosses 
aside  with  jeweled  hand  his  red  cape.  The  clatter  of  small 
wooden  soles  attracts  your  attention,  perhaps,  to  the  peas- 
ant girl  of  Lido,  whose  robust  figure  and  sunburnt  brow 
are  in  marked  contract  to  the  appearance  of  her  city  sister 
of  fairer  complexion  and  more  delicate  make  up.  Both 
are  fond  of  bright  colors.  The  black  bodice,  yellow  skirt, 
blue  apron  and  red  kerchief  show  this.  On  holidays,  green 
or  violet  silk  with  white  veils  may  be  substituted.  Those 
baskets  of  lavender  and  rose  look  moist  and  fragrant.  The 
purple  figs,  the  plump  fowls,  the  dark-green  melons  nest- 
ling, perhaps,  in  laurel  leaves,  form  an  appetizing  vision  as 
you  stroll  by  the  shops. 

The  song  that  comes  from  the  wine  rooms  directs  your 
eye  to  the  red  casks  and  dull  bottles  of  an  old  vintage. 
Keep  clear  of  them  and  come  Math  me  to  the  center  of 
Venetian  life  and  gayety,  the  grand  square  of  St.  Mark.  It 
is  night.  The  air  is  balmy  and  the  sky  is  bright  with  stars. 
The  band  is  beginning  to  play.  Take  a  chair  and  a  table 
and  sip  a  glass  of  granita — a  frozen  mixture  sweet  with 
fruit  syrup,  "  first  cousin  to  ice-cream."  With  cake  it  is 
served  for  half  a  franc.  These  we  eat  under  the  portico 
where  once  only  nobles  were  allowed  to  walk.  Before  us 
is  the  Ducal  Palace,  the  Bell  tower  and  the  Cathedral  of 
St.  Mark. 

How  about  this  saint,  the  tutelary  divinity  of  Venice  ? 
It   is    an   oft-told  legend   of  what   happened  a   thousand 


194  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

years  ago.  Two  Venetian  merchants  were  at  Alexandria. 
They  smuggled  away  the  corpse  of  the  Evangelist  by  cover- 
ing it  with  pieces  of  pork,  and  then  shouting  in  the  ears  of 
the  Mussulmans  the  name  of  that  most  offensive  flesh. 
During  the  homeward  voyage  the  dead  saint  had  to  take 
command  of  the  ship  in  a  storm  to  save  it  from  destruc- 
tion. When  he,  or  it,  arrived,  a  grand  reception  was  ten- 
dered. After  awhile  the  Venetians  lost  track  of  St.  Mark, 
but  subsequently  found  him  through  the  strong  odor 
which  he  emitted,  as  Johnson  once  tracked  Boswell.  At 
another  time  St.  Mark  kindly  thrust  his  hand  through  a 
marble  column,  dropped  a  ring  which  disclosed  a  coffin, 
and  which  led  to  other  grave  disclosures.  He  had  also  a 
tame  lion,  with  wings,  which,  like  Mary's  lamb,  went 
wherever  Mark  would  go.  Some  sceptics  prefer  the  theory 
that  Daniel's  vision  suggested  the  lion's  pinions.  Opinions 
vary,  but  for  ages  the  question  used  to  be  put  to  each 
returning  vessel  as  it  entered  the  port,  "  What  do  you 
bring  for  St.  Mark  ?  "  When  a  captive  was  to  be  ransomed, 
the  question  was,  "  What  will  you  give  to  St.  Mark  ?  " 

Those  four  horses  that  stand  by  the  door  have  been  great 
travelers.  They  have  visited  Rome  and  Paris  and  Con- 
stantinople. They  witnessed  the  Crusades  and  have  parti- 
cipated in  many  stirring  events  of  modern  times.  They 
were  raised  in  Greece.  Their  age  is  uncertain — as  is  the 
case  with  all  horses — but  the  weight  of  each  is  1932 
pounds.  This  has  not  changed  during  all  their  active  life,' 
and  they  look  now  as  lively  and  rampant  as  ever.  These 
are  the  only  horses  in  town.  Many  Venetians,  it  is  said, 
never  saw  but  these  four. 

You  notice  at  the  northwest  angle  of  this  broad  square 
the  Clock-Tower.  There  is  a  mechanism  only  second  in 
interest  to  Strasburg  clock.  Every  five  minutes,  large,  dis- 
tinct figures,  Arabic  and  Roman,  moving  below  the  dial, 
tell  you  the  hour— VIII.  45,  VIII.  50.  At  certain  hours 
when  all  good  Papists  are  supposed  to  be  on  their  knees, 
three  kings,  led  by  a  star,  march  out  one  door  and  bow  to 


ITALY.  195 

the  Virgin,  returning  by  another.  For  a  proper  fee  you 
are  allowed  to  see  the  show ;  only  be  careful — if  on  the 
tower  when  the  quarter-hour  blow  is  struck — that  the  huge 
hammer  in  the  hand  of  the  bronze  Vulcan  does  not  knock 
you  over  the  battlements,  as  was  the  case  some  years  ago 
when  Evelyn  was  in  Venice. 

As  your  eye  turns  to  the  Campanile  you  think  of  Galileo, 
who  once  stood  on  that  lofty  tower  330  feet  high  and 
studied  these  same  constellations  that  now  shine  in  the  sky. 
As  soon  as  he  had  invented  the  telescope  he  came  hither, 
and  for  more  than  a  month  was  busy  in  showing  it  to  the 
nobles  and  other  patrons  of  science.  Receiving  an  intima- 
tion that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  him  to  present  the 
telescope  to  the  Senate,  he  took  the  hint  and  did  so.  He 
got  a  professorship  in  the  University  of  Padua  as  a  reward, 
the  salary  of  which  was  repeatedly  increased,  and  finally 
doubled  and  made  a  permanent  income  for  life. 

Yonder  beautiful  building  recalls  the  liberality  of  an- 
other scholar,  Petrarch,  who,  in  1362,  gave  his  library  to 
the  city  in  return  for  attentions  received  while  a  resident 
here,  a  fugitive  from  the  plague  in  Padua.  This  collection 
includes  rare  MSS.  of  Homer  and  Sophocles,  rich  in  gro- 
tesque Byzantine  illustrations.  These  musty  parchments 
delight  scholars,  but  Venice  knows  little  of  them  to-day, 
and  cares  less. 

See  those  tired  toilers.  They  have  slept  out  the  concert, 
lying  on  the  steps  of  St.  Mark's.  They  are  doing  well. 
The  marble  is  warm  and  the  mercury  still  stands  at  78°. 
The  musicians  are  moving  toward  the  water-side  to  the 
notes  of  a  lively  march.  Let  us  follow.  How  weird  the 
scene  as  we  stand  here  between  the  lion  and  the  crocodile, 
where  sotmany  executions  have  taken  place,  and  look  out 
over  the  bay.  Dull  lanterns  burn  on  the  gondolas  like 
funeral  torches,  here  and  there  flitting  in  the  darkness. 
The  groves  of  the  Lido,  where  the  nightingales  are  now 
singing,  are  hidden,  and  the  curving  shore  is  lighted  with 
countless  lamps  throwing  their  red  glare  on  the  water.     In 


196  0  UT-D 0 OR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

her  palmiest  days  30,000  of  the  people  of  Venice  slept  in 
boats  every  night.  But  all  is  changed.  Her  glory  and 
wealth  are  gone.  The  serenade  has  ceased,  the  evening 
bells  ring  out  an  elegy.  Sismondi  and  others  predict  that 
while  the  name  of  Venice  will  remain  a  splendid  shadow, 
its  borders  will  come  to  be  but  a  pestilential  marsh,  its 
palaces  roofless,  its  population  a  few  fishermen,  the  ruin  a 
second  Babylon,  where  the  porpoise  is  substituted  for  the 
fox  and  the  gull  for  the  bittern.  Emilio  Castelar  has 
observed  with  truth  that  life  is  nourished  upon  death,  and 
that  Venice  fell  at  the  cradle  of  America  as  Iphigenia  at 
the  cradle  of  Greece.  She  was  the  England  of  mediaeval 
times  ;  her  liberties  the  most  ancient  of  Christendom  ;  her 
architecture  an  epitome  of  all  epochs,  a  wonder  of  wonders 
in  richness  and  variety  ;  and  her  power  in  art  was  that  of 
a  magician  who  compels  others  to  be  imitators  by  the  kiss 
of  fire  which  she  lays  on  their  foreheads.  But  now,  he  says, 
she  is  djnng.  The  Phrygian  cap  of  the  republic  and  the 
Byzantine  crown  of  the  East  have  fallen  forever  from  her 
head  ;  her  voluptuous  banquets  are  ended  ;  her  sea-flowers 
and  coral  garlands  have  lost  their  aroma,  and  a  sepulchral 
silence  broods  over  stagnant  pools  whose  green  slime  swims 
like  bodies  of  the  dead.  Desolation  rests  on  the  somber 
palaces,  rich  in  twisted  columns,  plinths  and  pedestals,  in 
Gothic  rose  and  Arabic  window ;  and  as  their  heavy 
doors  turn  slowly  on  their  hinges  and  their  occupants 
softly  descend  the  yellow  steps  into  a  gondola,  they 
look  like  those  who  go  slowly  down  to  rest  in'the  last, 
long  sleep. 

The  band  has  disappeared.  We  stroll  along  the  mole  ; 
stand  on  the  bridge  Paglia  and  see  the  modern  prison 
where  300  prisoners  are  incarcerated ;  glance  at  the 
"  Bridge  of  Sighs,"  over  which  so  many  heavy  feet  and 
heavier  hearts  have  passed,  to  find,  as  Roger  says, 

"  That  fatal  closet  at  the  foot,  lurking  for  prey  ! 
That  deep  descent  leading  to  dripping  vaults 
Under  the  flood  where  light  and  warmth  were  never  1 " 


ITALY.  197 

John  Howard  tells  of  the  loathsome  cells  he  visited  here, 
to  which  many  were  condemned  for  life.  The  prisoners 
told  him  that  they  all  would  prefer  the  slavery  of  the 
galleys  if  they  could  once  again  enjoy  the  air  and  light 
of  day. 

STORIES    OF   THE    TEN    TYRANTS. 

Long  ago  I  had  leai*ned  from  the  researches  of  Daru,  in 
the  Royal  Library  at  Paris,  enough  to  gain  some  idea  of  the 
merciless  rigor  of  the  Inquisition  of  the  State.  This  knowl- 
edge awed  me  as  I  viewed  the  spot  about  which  these 
tragic  associations  cling.  Their  recital  ought,  at  least,  to 
intensify  the  loyalty  of  English-speaking  people  to  the 
free  institutions  which  it  has  been  their  boast  to  sustain 
and  extend. 

The  Council  of  Ten  gave,  in  1454,  plenary  power  to  the 
Inquisitors  of  State  over  all  who  should  expose  themselves 
to  punishment.  This  is  said  to  be  the  only  code  ever  writ- 
ten "  on  the  avowed  basis  of  perfidy  and  assassination,  and 
exceeds  every  other  product  of  human  wickedness."  The 
treasury  of  the  Ten  was  at  their  service,  and  no  account 
demanded  ;  the  terrific  dungeons  below,  or  the  hollow 
niches  within  the  walls  of  the  palace,  were  at  their  disposal ; 
the  cord,  the  sack,  the  dagger  or  the  poison  waited  their 
call ;  and  not  only  Venetians  but  foreign  ambassadors  must 
obey  their  mandates  without  questioning.  Sometimes  a 
hint  was  given  to  the  stranger,  if  a  man  of  mark,  in  these 
words,  "  The  air  of  Venice  is  unhealthy,"  and  he  fled  for  life. 

A  Genoese  painter  talked  one  day  with  two  Frenchmen 
who  were  indiscreet  in  their  criticisms  of  the  government. 
Spies  heard  and  reported  the  conversation.  The  next  day 
the  painter  was  summoned.  He  was  asked  by  the  Inquisi- 
tors if  he  could  recognize  the  persons  who  talked  with  him 
the  day  before  in  a  certain  church.  He  assured  the  officers 
that  his  own  words  had  been  only  praise.  A  curtain  was 
removed  and  he  saw  the  bodies  of  the  two  foreigners  hang- 
ing from  the  ceiling.  He  was  dismissed  with  the  advice  to 
keep  quiet  and  express  no  opinions  either  way. 


198  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

A  German  merchant  was  hurried  out  of  his  hotel  one 
night,  muffled  in  a  cloak,  carried  to  an  underground  apart- 
ment. The  next  day  he  was  confined  in  a  room  hung  with 
black,  lighted  with  one  taper  burning  before  a  crucifix. 
On  a  third  day,  an  invisible  Inquisitor  inquired  his  name, 
age,  and  business  ;  if  he  had  heard  an  abbe  use  certain  ex- 
pressions, and  if  he  could  recognize  his  face  if  shown.  A 
screen  was  then  removed  and  a  gibbet  was  shown  with  the 
priest  upon  it. 

A  French  nobleman  was  robbed  in  Venice  and  com- 
plained of  the  negligence  of  the  police.  As  he  was  leaving, 
his  gondola  was  intercepted  by  another,  bearing  the  omin- 
ous red  flag,  and  manned  by  minions  of  a  ruthless  and  mys- 
terious power.  "Pass  into  this  boat!"  Then  followed 
short,  rapid  queries  as  to  the  theft  and  his  suspicions. 
"  Would  you  know  him  again  ?  "  "  Undoubtedly."  The 
officer  coolly  lifted  with  his  foot  a  covering,  and  there  lay 
the  corpse  with  the  green  purse  in  its  pulseless  grasp,  con- 
taining the  five  hundred  ducats  undisturbed.  The  noble- 
man was  ordered  to  take  his  gold,  leave,  and  never  set  foot 
again  in  a  land  the  wisdom  of  whose  government  he  had 
dared  to  impeach. 

In  the  life  of  Howard  it  is  related  that  a  nobleman  was 
roused  at  dead  of  night  and  carried  off  in  a  gondola  to  a 
lonely  spot,  to  see  the  strangled  body  of  an  intimate  friend, 
the  tutor  of  his  children.  This  young  man  had  unwisely 
repeated  remarks  on  certain  political  matters  which  he  had 
heard  from  the  lips  of  his  patron.  The  cord  was  the  cruel 
cure  for  careless  speech.  Enough  of  this.  The  day  of  reck- 
oning came  to  Venice.  Ezekiel's  prophecy  against  Tyre 
told  this  doom  of  this  Queen  of  cities.  "  Because  thou 
hast  said  I  sit  in  the  midst  of  the  seas,  thine  heart  is  lifted 
up  because  of  thy  riches.  Every  precious  stone  was  thy 
covering  ;  thou  hast  gotten  gold  and  silver  into  thy  treas- 
uries ;  by  thy  great  wisdom  and  by  thy  traffic  thou  hast 
increased  thy  riches.  I  will  bring  strangers  ;  they  shall 
defile  thy  brightness."     One  morning  in  May,  1794,  twenty 


ITALY.  199 

gun-boats  and  80,000  men  appeared.  Bonaparte  told  the 
Venetian  ambassadors,  "  There  shall  be  no  more  Inquisi- 
tion, no  more  Senate,  and  I  will  prove  another  Attila  to 
Venice."  The  arsenal  was  stripped  ;  the  golden  book  was 
burned,  and  a  new  inscription  was  put  on  the  volume  in 
the  lion's  hand,  "The  rights  of  man  and  of  civilization  !  " 
The  last  Doge  while  stooping  to  the  humiliation  of  an  oath 
of  allegiance  to  his  new  master  was  stricken  in  a  fit  and 
died  soon  after.  Though  hand  had  joined  in  hand,  the 
wicked  went  not  unpunished. 

THE  PALACE  OP  THE  DOGES. 

Where  is  there  a  stranger  juxtaposition  of  glory  and  of 
shame,  of  beauty  and  of  horror  ?     Above  are 

"  Rooms  of  state 
Where  kings  have  feasted,  and  the  festal  song 
Rung  through  the  fretted  roof,  cedar  and  gold  " — 

below  are  the  damp  sepulchral  dungeons  where  tortured 
prisoners  lay  in  agony  and  darkness.  There  I  saw  the 
channel  chiseled  in  the  stony  pavement  to  conduct  away 
the  blood  when  men  were  butchered.  Above  are  pictures 
of  saints  and  angels,  of  the  Redeemer  of  men  and  apostles 
of  peace ;  below  are  the  footprints  and  handiwork  of 
fiends  !  Charles  Dickens  describes  his  descent  into  these 
"dismal,  awful,  horrible  stone  cells.  They  were  quite 
dark.  One  cell  I  saw  in  which  no  man  remained  more 
than  four  and  twenty  hours,  being  marked  for  death  be- 
fore he  entered  it.  Hard  by,  another,  whereto  a  monk, 
brown-robed  and  hooded,  came — ghastly  in  the  day  and 
free,  bright  ah',  but  in  the  midnight  of  that  murky  prison, 
Hope's  extinguisher,  Murder's  herald.  I  had  my  foot  upon 
the  spot  where  the  shriven  prisoner  was  strangled,  and 
struck  my  hand  upon  the  guilty  door  through  which  the 
lumpish  sack  was  carried  out  into  a  boat,  and  rowed  away 
and  drowned  where  it  was  death  to  cast  a  net."  My  guide 
pointed  out  the  sad  inscriptions  which  the  sufferers  had 
scratched  on  the  walls  ;    also  the  dungeon  in  which,  to 


200  OUT-BOOB  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

gratify  a  poetic  caprice,  Byron  spent  twenty-four  hours, 
locked  up  in  the  dark  to  see  how  good  it  was  ! 

The  tablet  in  the  frieze  of  the  Council  Hall,  which  should 
have  been  filled  by  Faliero's  face,  bears  on  its  black  front 
the  record  of  his  treason.  The  spot  on  which  he,  in  his 
eightieth  year,  was  decapitated  ;  the  museum,  paintings 
and  other  works  of  art,  including  Tintoreto's  "  Paradise," 
the  largest  oil  painting  in  the  world,  should  be  noticed  ; 
the  Arsenal,  with  the  instruments  of  old-time  torture ; 
poisoned  needles  shot  from  a  spring  pistol ;  ancient  cross- 
bows, swords  and  bucklers,  with  silken  banners  and  ori- 
flammes  that  fluttered  in  the  hot  breath  of  battle  in  the 
days  of  the  Crusades,  as  at  Jaffa,  when,  according  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Tyre,  the  Venetians  fought  ankle-deep  in 
blood,  the  sea  was  reddened  two  miles  around,  piles  of  the 
dead  unburied  for  days  along  the  coast.  Hillard  considers 
this  the  most  impressive  place  in  Venice,  an  epitome  of  six 
centuries  of  Venetian  life.  Although  robbed  by  French 
and  Austrian,  there  is  enough  left  to  make  vivid  the  mem- 
ories of  the  republic,  when  the  palaces,  of  white  Istrian 
marble  decked  with  porphyry,  were  brilliant  with  purple 
hangings  and  richest  tapestry  ;  when  Titian's  superb  paint- 
ings adorned  the  walls  ;  gold,  silver,  spices  and  silks  from 
the  East  were  brought  home  as  spoils  of  war,  and  Venice 
came  finally  to  a  modern  Capua,  naked  Venus  keeping  her 
court  where  Cupid  rides  the  Lion  of  the  deep. 

THE   MARRIAGE    OF   THE   ADRIATIC. 

This  festival  was  celebrated  for  180  years  to  commemo- 
rate victories  over  sea  pirates  in  997,  but  in  1370,  Ascension 
Day  was  made  commemorative  of  the  grander  triumph  won 
over  Frederick  Barbarossa.  Then  Pope  Alexander  gave 
the  Duke  a  ring  of  gold  as  a  token  of  dominion  of  the  sea, 
to  be  thereafter  subservient  to  Venice  as  a  spouse  to  her 
husband.  Galibert's  "  Histoire  de  Venise  "  has  a  minute 
account  of  this  brilliant  outdoor  festival,  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  fair  that  lasted  a  fortnight.     At  this  its  me- 


ITALY.  201 

chanical  and  decorative  arts  were  exhibited  in  temporary 
pavilions  on  the  Piazza — the  velvets,  silks  and  wool ;  the 
wonderful  Venetian  glass  ;  their  exquisite  laces  ;  bracelets 
of  gold  and  curiously  ornamented  arms  and  armor ;  paint- 
ing, sculpture — in  short,  everything  that  illustrated  the 
glory  and  pride  of  her  who  not  only  "  held  the  gorgeous 
East  in  fee,"  but  was  herself  wise  and  cunning  in  all  handi- 
craft among  men.  Silver  bells  rang  out  from  every  tower 
and  belfry,  and  cannon  boomed  from  the  forts  and  arsenal. 
The  Ducal  dignitaries  are  preceded  by  a  band  of  fife- 
players  and  silver  trumpets  ;  by  children  attired  in  ribbons 
and  frills  ;  servants  and  secretaries  with  taper,  footstool 
and  cushion,  and  by  the  captain  of  the  city  in  velvet 
cassock  and  scarlet  robe,  with  buckled  girdle  and  clanking 
sabre,  red  sandals  and  black  cap.  The  grand  chancellor 
wears  a  senatorial  garb,  and  is  attended  by  a  little  child  in 
princely  attire,  whose  dimpled  hand,  with  innocent  igno- 
rance, is  used  to  pick  the  gilded  balls  from  the  urn  of 
scrutiny  on  the  election  of  the  Doge.  Now  appears  the 
central  personage,  in  a  mantle  of  ermine,  with  buttons 
of  gold,  wearing  a  blue  cassock,  Phrygian  cap  and  jew- 
eled crown.  His  long  robe  is  made  of  heavy  cloth  of 
gold,  and  his  sandals  are  woven  in  gold.  The  Papal 
legate  is  on  his  right,  with  square  hat,  surcoat  buttoned 
from  top  to  bottom,  a  lace  embroidered  alb  and  a  short 
cloak  ;  the  imperial  ambassador,  with  conspicuous  ruff  and 
velvet  bonnet,  is  on  his  left.  Other  officers  bring  up  the 
rear  of  the  procession.  They  embark  amid  thunders  of 
artillery,  and  sail  in  the  magnificent  Bucentaur  toward 
Santa  Elmo.  The  Patriarch  and  clergy  here  meet  the 
Ducal  party,  and  a  vase  of  water  is  poured  into  the  Adri- 
atic as  a  propitiatory  offering.  Arriving  at  the  port  of 
San  Nicolas,  the  Doge  speaks  in  sonorous  Latin  these  sacra- 
mental words,  "  Desponsamus  te,  mare,  in  signum  veri 
perpetuique  dominii  " — "  We  wed  thee,  Sea,  in  token  of 
our  true  and  perpetual  sovereignty  !  " 

One  might  think  that,  in  course  of  centuries,  a  pile  of 


202  OUT-DOOM  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

gold  rings  would  excite  somebody's  cupidity,  but  the  latest 
information  on  the  subject  is  that  the  sacred  ring  was  care- 
fully caught  in  a  net  and  so  made  to  do  continuous  service. 
The  festival  long  ago  ceased.  The  barge  was  burned  by 
the  French  in  1797.  Those  who  wish  to  know  of  the  pres- 
ent festivals  will  find  Adams'  "  Queen  of  the  Adriatic  "  an 
ample  guide. 

THE    CATHEDRAL  AND   BELL   TOWEE. 

The  brilliant  panorama  of  Venice  must  conclude  with 
these  two  pictures.  They  fitly  close  this  imperfect  review 
of  a  few  of  the  salient  points  of  Venetian  life  and  history, 
with  which  every  stranger  should  be  familiar  in  order  to 
fully  enjoy  his  visit. 

The  former  edifice,  in  the  eye- of  Ruskin,  is  the  "Bible 
of  Venice,"  written  over  with  the  truth  of  God.  It  is  a 
symbol  of  the  Bride  of  Christ,  all  glorious  within,  neither 
gold  nor  crystal  spared  in  the  adornment  thereof.  With 
exuberant  fancy  and  glowing  rhetoric,  he  turns  over  the 
illuminated  pages  of  this  great  "  Book  of  Common  Prayer," 
and  reads  us  a  lesson  from  its  pillars  of  jasper,  gates  of 
bronze  and  shadowy  aisles,  over  which  bend  glittering 
canopies,  some  with  stars  and  arches,  that  break  into  a 
marble  foam  and  sculptural  spray,  as  if  the  waves  of  Lido 
had  fell  frost-bound,  and  the  sea-nymphs  had  inlaid  them 
with  gold  and  amethyst. 

Others,  like  Sismondi,  have  looked  on  the  bewildering 
tracery  of  vine  and  acanthus,  sceptered  angels,  signs  of 
heaven  and  toil  of  man,  and  pronounced  the  spectacle  at 
once  "majestic  and  mean,  half  awful  and  half  ludicrous." 
If  seen  by  solemn  nocturnal  illumination,  the  interior  may 
appear  less  tawdry  and  vain.  The  deep  undulations  of  the 
floor,  caused  by  the  settling  of  the  piles,  gives  one  a 
strange  sensation.  The  most  interesting  thing  of  all  is 
that  red  and  white  diamond-shaped  marble  which  marks 
the  place  where  Pope  Alexander  III.,  robed  in  pontifical 
vestments,  that  blazed  with  jewels,  placed  his  foot  on  the 


ITALY.  203 

neck  of  the  prostrate  German  Emperor,  repeating  the 
words  of  the  91st  Psalm,  "Thou  shalt  tread  upon  the 
lion  and  adder,  the  young  lion  and  the  dragon  shalt  thou 
trample  under  feet."  The  intrepid  prince,  Frederick  Bar- 
barossa,  was  a  man,  Milman  says,  of  unmeasured  ambition, 
severe  "justice  and  barbaric  ferocity,  tempered  with  chival- 
rous gallantry,  having  the  loftiest  ideas  of  supremacy  over 
all  the  powers,  temporal  or  spiritual.  lie  writhed  under 
the  humiliation  and  murmured,  "  To  St.  Peter,  not  to  thee,  I 
kneel ! "  The  pope  trod  a  second  time  with  more  severity  on 
the  emperor's  neck,  saying,  "  To  me,  and  St.  Peter  ! "  nor 
did  he  withdraw  his  sandaled  foot  till  his  foe  seemed  fully 
humbled.  Then,  as  a  lackey,  the  haughty  Teuton  was 
obliged  to  hold  the  stirrup  when  the  pope  mounted  his 
horse  at  the  door.  As  Adams  suggests,  much  of  legendary 
fiction  may  gather  about  the  facts.  But  the  event  itself  is 
authentic,  and  invests  the  spot  with  an  interest  that  the 
pretended  relics  shown  by  priests  cannot  inspire,  such  as  a 
vase  of  the  real  blood  of  Christ,  apart  of  the  skull  of  John 
the  Baptist,  and  other  shows  as  silly  as  the  bottled  dark- 
ness of  Egypt,  or  the  sword  that  Balaam  once  wished  that 
he  had. 

"We  pass  groups  of  "  the  oldest  family  in  Venice  " — the 
tame  pigeons,  whose  settlement  dates  from  877,  when,  on 
Palm  Sunday,  doves  with  clipped  wings  let  loose  by  St. 
Mark's  sacristans  settled  about  the  square,  their  home  ever 
since. 

It  is  said  that  Milton  once  wished,  if  his  sight  could  be 
restored,  that  his  eyes  might  first  open  on  beautiful  Flor- 
ence in  the  valley  of  the  Arno.  It  is,  indeed,  a  fairy  scene, 
that  city  of  lilies,  and  it  is  not  strange  that  Milton  longed 
to  see  it  again.  Dr.  Guthrie,  with  enthusiastic  admiration 
of  the  "Queen  of  the  Highland  lakes  "  he  loved  so  well, 
exclaimed,  "  Will  there  not  be  a  Loch  Lomond  in  heaven  ?  " 
Of  the  loveliness  of  Naples  bay  much  is  justly  said,  but  of 
the  view  from  the  Campanile  of  St.  Mark's  at  sunset  there 
are,  perhaps,  as  many  extravagant  descriptions  in  print  as 


£04  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

of  any  place  in  the  world.  The  earliest  I  find  is  in  the  an- 
cient phrases  of  Coryate,  as  quoted  in  a  foreign  periodical 
.many  years  ago  :  "  I  thinke  you  have  the  fairest  and  good- 
liest prospect  in  all  the  worlde  ;  for  there  hence  you  see  the 
whole  model  and  forme  of  the  citie,  a  sight  that  doth,  in 
my  opinion,  farre  surpasse  all  the  shewes  under  the  cope  of 
heaven,  a  synopsis  of  the  Jerusalem  of  Cristendome." 

The  Alps  and  Apennines  fringe  this  vast,  broad  basin. 
The  Adige  and  the  Po  pour  their  waters  into  the  gulf,  as 
the  Meuse  and  the  Rhine  into  the  Zuyder  Zee,  making  in 
both  cases  wide  saline  marshes  and  islands.  On  these  por- 
tions of  the  lagoon,  Venice  lies,  "like  a  swan's  nest,"  with 
her  white  walls  and  palaces  cradled  in  the  wave. 

The  eye  ranges  from  the  snows  of  Tyrol  on  the  north  to 
the  far-off  mountains  of  Istria  on  the  east,  and  the  Julian 
Alps  which  look  down  on  Illyria  and  the  land  of  the  Turks. 
Let  Lynton  tell  the  rest :  "  The  burning  sunset  turns  all 
the  sky  to  opal,  all  the  churches  to  pearl,  all  the  sea  to 
gold  and  crimson.  Every  color  gains  an  intensity  and 
purity  like  to  nothing  ever  seen  in  northern  climates.  The 
distant  mountains  glow  like  lines  of  lapis  lazuli  washed 
with  gold  ;  the  islands  are  bowers  of  greenery  springing 
from  the  bosom  of  the  purple  waters.  Great  painted  saf- 
fron and  crimson  sails  come  out  from  the  distance,  looking 
in  the  sunlight  like  the  wirfgs  of  some  gigantic  tropical 
bird  ;  flowers  and  glittering  ornaments  hang  at  the  mast- 
head ;  everywhere  you  hear  music  and  song,  the  plash  of 
swift  oars  and  the  hum  of  human  voices  ;  everywhere  you 
drink  in  the  charm,  the  subtle  intoxication,  the  glory  of 
this  beloved  queen  among  the  nations.  And  when  the 
night  has  fairly  come  and  the  world  has  sunk  to  rest,  you 
lay  your  head  on  the  pillow  with  a  smile,  your  last  thought 
I  am  in  Venice  !  to-morrow  I  shall  see  her  beloved  beauty 
again  ! " 

Our  journey  westwai'd  was  now  begun.  Only  rapid 
glances  were  taken  of  ancient  Padua,  of  classic  Verona — re- 
membered for  its  amphitheater  and  the  tombs  of  the  Scali- 


TEE  LAND  OF  TEE  MIDNIGET  SUN.  205 

gers  and  of  Juliet ;  of  Milan,  with  its  cathedral,  its  memo- 
ries of  Augustine,  and  Da  Vinci's  "  Last  Supper  "  ;  of  the 
rich  plains  of  Lombardy,  rice  fields  and  mulberry  groves ; 
of  the  Mincius,  by  which  stream  Virgil  was  born  ;  of  the 
quiet  lakes  at  the  foot  of  the  Alps  ;  the  battle-ground  of 
Solferino,  and  other  places  of  historic  interest.  Turin  was 
reached  again,  which  is  but  thirty  hours  from  Paris.  My 
tour  of  Italy  was  ended.  The  words  of  Mantua's  bard, 
which  close  his  third  pastoral,  kept  coming  up  in  my  mem- 
ory as  the  long  journey  was  drawing  to  a  close.  I  had 
seen  enough,  and  could  say, 

"  Claudite  jam  rivos,  pueri ;  sat  prata  biberunt. 
Close  now  your  streams,  O  swains,  the  meads  have  drunk  enough." 

May  God  bless  regenerated  Italy,  and  lift  her  again  to 
her  place  among  the  nations  !  And  may  all  the  continen- 
tal nations,  with  England  and  America,  be  forever  united 
in  the  bonds  of  peace,  of  liberty,  and  religion. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   LAND    OF   THE   MIDNIGHT   SUN. 

"  Hvad  er  det  der  ?  Pas  paa  !  Langsom,  Stop  ! " 
The  captain's  last  word  was  plain  enough.  The  stop- 
ping of  the  steamer  was  sufficient  explanation.  His  con- 
versation with  the  Norwegian  fishermen,  who  met  us  with 
warning  words  as  they  suddenly  emerged  from  the  fog, 
was  quite  unintelligible,  inasmuch  as  in  my  early  educa- 
tion the  study  of  Norsk  had  somehow  been  overlooked. 
"  Who's  there  ?  Take  care  !  Slow,  Stop  !  "  That  is  what 
he  said. 

The  fog  soon  lifted,  and  a  panorama  of  unique,  pictur- 
esque beauty  burst  upon  the  view  as  we  came  near  to 
Stavangee.  It  was  now  the  summer  solstice,  but  snow  still 
crowned  the  encircling  mountains.     We  were  only  forty- 


206  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

eight  hours  from  England's  green  and  sunny  shores,  380 
miles,  and  the  change  was  abrupt  and  striking.  We  almost 
seemed  to  be  in  Switzerland,  looking  at  the  Bernese  Ober- 
land.  An  unusually  severe  winter,  however,  accounted  for 
the  long  continuance  of  the  snow.  The  fields  were  verdant 
and  the  air  comparatively  bland.  Fair-faced  Scandinavian 
girls  and  boys  were  playing  in  the  streets,  and  some  were 
trying  their  muscle,  rowing  in  the  bay.  I  helped  one  of 
them  off  the  pier  into  her  skiff,  saying,  "  Pas  paa,"  "  take 
care  " — that  being  the  extent  of  my  Norsk  vocabulary  at 
that  time.  She  smiled  and  took  up  her  oars  and  pulled 
away  gracefully,  as  if  at  home  in  a  boat.  The  donkeys 
and  the  drays,  the  wooden  shoes,  the  fluted  tiles,  the  dress 
and  speech  of  the  people,  were  attractive  to  a  stranger,  as 
well  as  the  shops,  the  houses,  the  cathedral,  800  years  old, 
into  which,  in  turn,  we  looked.  "  Only  two  weeks  ago  to- 
day I  was  in  Brooklyn,"  this  thought  kept  coming  into  my 
mind  as  I  gazed  over  my  novel  surroundings. 

The  most  striking  novelty  in  Norway  was  its  intermin- 
able day.  Going  to  bed  seemed  to  be  out  of  the  question. 
Why  should  we,  so  long  as  one  can  read,  even  under  a 
cloudy  sky,  all  night  ?  I  have  heard  of  youthful  lovers 
who  are  wont  to  call  on  their  betrothed  to  spend  an  after- 
noon, that  is,  "  till  dark."  Under  these  summer  skies  they 
might  stay,  if  till  dark,  three  months  !  Were  they  wedded 
in  winter  they  would  have  three  months  of  night  to  match 
their  wooing  by  day.     Nuptial  bliss,  indeed  ! 

Passing  Kopervik,  with  its  moors  and  pasture  lands,  we 
soon  saw  the  ancient  pillar  called  St.  Mary's  Needle,  in- 
clined towards  the  Church  of  Augsvaldsnoes.  The  legend 
says  that  when  it  touches  the  wall  the  world  will  end.  On 
the  opposite  shore  of  the  "  sund"  are  Druidic  stones  with 
ghastly  memories  attached.  One  of  them  is  now  painted 
in  alternate  stripes,  white,  yellow,  and  black,  and  supports 
telegraph  lines,  a  striking  picture  of  the  juxtaposition  of 
ancient  superstition  and  modern  intelligence.  Further  on 
there  is  a  tall  red  obelisk,  that  marks  the  grave  of  a  Nor- 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN.  207 

wegian  king  who  lived  a  thousand  years  ago,  and  the  re- 
mains of  a  Benedictine  monastery  founded  1164. 

The  next  morning  we  passed  the  wreck  of  a  large,  new 
steamer,  lost  on  her  first  voyage,  caught  in  one  of  the 
maelstroms  that  make  this  coast  perilous.  The  tides  and 
currents  proved  stronger  than  steam. 

"  She  hadn't  way  enough  on,"  said  the  officer  who  called 
my  attention  to  the  wreck,  "  for  she  was  going  at  half 
speed." 

"  That  is  just  the  trouble,"  said  I,  "  with  many  a  young 
fellow  who  lacks  the"  inward  momentum  of  principle,  the 
power  of  moral  character  to  carry  him  safely  amid  the 
vortices  of  temptation.     They  have  not  way  enough." 

THE   POET    OF   BERGEN. 

Lyderhorn  looked  down  from  its  serene  heights,  crowned 
with  sunshine,  and  mellow  sabbath  bells  filled  the  morning 
air  with  music,  as  the  Domino  steamed  into  the  port  of 
Bergen,  where  we  remained  till  Monday  afternoon.  This 
seven-hilled  town  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  Norway,  and  its 
name  signifies  "  a  meadow  in  the  mountains."  It  was  a 
royal  residence  eight  hundred  years  ago,  and  the  most  im- 
portant land  and  naval  battles  of  subsequent  centuries  were 
fought  here.  It  had  thirty  churches  and  monasteries. 
The  Hanseatic  League  gave  impulse  to  its  traffic,  and  Ber- 
gen became  the  largest  and  busiest  center  in  the  kingdom. 

Its  picturesque  situation  charmed  me.  I  never  shall 
forget  the  sweet  tranquillity  of  that  June  morning  as  we 
entered  the  harbor.  I  have  enjoyed  much  of  European 
scenery,  from  the  Hebrides  to  Venice,  from  St.  Petersburg 
to  Madrid  and  beyond,  but  few  points  of  more  alluring 
loveliness  have  arrested  my  attention  than  this  old  Nor- 
wegian seapoi't,  with  its  noble  amphitheater  of  hills,  and 
its  smiling  environs,  lying  warm  and  bright  under  those 
cloudless  Sabbath  skies. 

Three  things  make  a  summer  excursion  along  the  western 
coast  of  Norway  most  enticing  to  a  traveler.     The  scenic 


208  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

grandeur  of  those  stern,  solemn,  awe-inspiring  mountains, 
austere  and  bold,  and  glorious  in  their  strength  and 
solitude,  is  the  first.  Their  gray  and  melancholy  peaks 
often  rise  sheer  and  clear  from  the  fiords  to  a  considerable 
height,  and  present  sometimes  a  weird  and  fantastic  shape, 
as  at  the  Lofoden  Islands,  with  their  countless  pinnacles, 
compared  to  shark's  teeth  ;  or  the  Seven  Sisters,  4000  feet 
high,  that  seem  to  clasp  each  other  with  frosty  fingers  in 
the  upper  air  ;  or,  most  notable  of  all,  perhaps,  the  Giant 
Horseman,  under  the  Arctic  Circle,  a  mysterious  presence 
that  every  Norseman  feels,  and  in  which  he  has  a  super- 
stitious awe.  This  suggests  another  element,  the  historic 
and  legendary  interest  attaching  to  these  localities.  The 
old  Vikings  have  left  their  memorial  on  sea  and  shore.  It 
is  delightful  to  look  at  this  grand  scenery  through  the 
misty  perspective  of  romance  and  mythology.  But  more 
than  all  is  the  bewitching  beauty  of  a  ceaseless  day,  which 
invests  with  a  subtle  charm  that  which  otherwise  might  be 
bleak,  bare,  and  chilling.  The  fine  gradations  of  color  in 
sky  and  sea,  on  mountain  and  moor,  the  atmospheric  con- 
ditions in  these  high  latitudes  where  there  is  no  night, 
give  a  plenary  and  crowning  glory  to  the  view. 

To  tell  the  attractions  of  this  one  town  of  Bergen  would 
require  a  book.  To  the  lover  of  antiquity  the  museum 
affords  materials  for  frequent  and  prolonged  study  ;  to  the 
lover  of  art  there  is  the  gallery  of  paintings  by  native 
artists  ;  to  the  philanthropist  the  oldest  and  largest  hospital 
for  lepers  in  Europe  is  full  of  interest ;  and  to  one  who 
studies  social  and  church  life,  the  Norwegian  Sabbath 
congregations  and  worship  present  many  suggestive 
features. 

AT   CHURCH    AND    HOSPITAL. 

The  sacrament  was  administered  by  a  Lutheran  priest  in 
black  cassock  and  stiff  ruff.  He  laid  the  wafer  on  my 
tongue,  and  another  in  crimson  chasuble,  with  a  huge  gold- 
en star,  cross,  skull  and  bones  emblazoned  on  its  folds, 
put  the  cup  to  my  lips.     The  choir  sang  and  the  organ  was 


TEE  LAND  OF  TEE  MIBNIGET  SUN.  209 

played  meanwhile.  Not  a  word  of  what  he  said  did  I  un- 
derstand, but  watching  the  movements  of  others,  no  breach 
of  t  decorum  was  committed.  In  another  sanctuary  I  heard 
a  sermon  in  the  same  unknown  tongue,  enjoying  its  excel- 
lent elocution,  and  pleased  with  the  devout  attention  of  the 
immense  audience,  which  packed  the  aisles  as  well  as  pews. 
The  lack  of  ventilation  made  the  atmosphere  almost  intol- 
erable. Yet  people  there,  as  here,  dread  a  draft  of  pure 
air,  though  it  be  the  soft,  perfumed  breath  of  rosy  June. 

Deformity  and  skin  diseases  from  syphilis  and  leprosy, 
resulting  from  "  the  two  great  sins  of  Norwegian  peasantry, 
licentiousness  and  filth  " — are  very  common.  The  hospital 
for  lepers  visited  is  said  to  be  the  oldest  and  largest  in  Eu- 
rope. There  were  220  incurables,  116  men,  138  women,  re- 
ceived in  1879.  Inspector  Hartwig  took  me  through  the 
male  wards.  Faces  were  distorted,  covered  with  hard  nodes, 
or  white,  scaly  patches  ;  eyes  bleared  or  blind  ;  fingers 
twisted,  scarred,  as  if  by  burn,  or  bleeding  with  red,  seamy 
sores,  and  limbs  that  no  longer  served  their  normal  purpose. 
The  air  was  malodorous,  yet  the  disease  was  not  regarded 
contagious,  and  the  lepers  did  not  show  signs  of  pain.  The 
doctor  did  not  hesitate  to  handle  the  parts  affected.  Lep- 
rosy is  believed  to  be  a  filiarial  disease,  but  the  workings 
of  this  peculiar  entozoon  are  but  little  understood  at 
present. 

Theaters  and  tobacco  shops  were  opened  at  five  o'clock 
Sunday  afternoon.  The  Domino  then  began  to  discharge 
her  cargo.  I  was  glad  to  get  away  from  the  confusion  and 
climb  the  verdant  slopes  of  the  grand  amphitheater  of  hills 
that  surround  the  harbor,  to  sit  and  read  in  quietness,  enjoy- 
ing the  delicious  atmosphere  and  picturesque  beauty  of  the 
place.  The  distant  shout  of  bather  or  boatman  in  the  bay, 
the  note  of  bugle  and  of  drum  from  the  fort,  wafted 
through  the  still  air,  the  pleasant  groups  of  people,  who, 
with  their  children,  had  brought  their  evening  meal  to  eat 
out-doors,  seated  on  the  grass,  the  serene  loveliness  of  the 
sunset,  and  the  grandeur  of  Bergen's  seven  mountains,  all 


210  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

contributed  to  make  the  scene  one  of  delightful,  enduring 
interest. 

THE    WIZARD    OF    THE    BOW. 

That  unique  and  charming  personality,  Ole  Bull,  had 
but  recently  passed  away,  dying  August  18,  1880,  at  the 
age  of  70,  at  Lyso,  a  few  miles  from  his  native  town,  Ber- 
gen. His  birth-place  and  his  grave  awakened  tender  mem- 
ories in  my  heart.  An  admirer  of  Henry  Clay  said  that, 
when  under  the  fascination  of  the  orator,  he  appeared  to 
be  forty  feet  high.  The  superb  and  princely  figiu-e  of  this 
musician  was  "  an  incarnation  of  othe  Magnus  Apollo,"  as 
Prof.  Crosby  has  said,  and  was  one  factor  of  his  entranc- 
ing power.  But  his  noble  qualities  of  heart  and  mind,  the 
citizens  assured  me,  made  him  universally  loved.  A  con- 
voy of  16  steamers  escorted  the  steamer  that  bore  his  dust 
to  Bergen.  The  quay  where  it  landed,  the  streets  through 
which  it  was  carried,  and  the  grave  where  it  finally  rested 
were  strewn  with  juniper  and  pine  ;  flowers  were  showered 
on  the  casket,  and  tears  fell  from  many  eyes  as  the  pro- 
cession, preceded  by  young  girls  in  black,  moved  through 
the  silent  streets  to  the  music  of  some  of  the  great  artist's 
own  melodies.  0  hil  dig,  salige  Toneskald,  og  farve  !  O, 
blessed  Tonebard,  hail  and  farewell  ! 

SCENES    ALONG    THE    COAST. 

Grand,  lonely,  and  solemn,  the  scenery  grows  more  im- 
pressive as  you  move  northward.  I  sketched  one  of  the 
islands  of  fantastic  shape,  like  a  crouching  lion,  and  also 
Stebban  Light,  on  a  rock  like  Fastnet.  At  the  midnight 
hour  we  passed  Hornelen,  whose  ragged  j)eak  rises  3000 
feet  in  sullen,  mysterious  grandeur,  while  cascades  leap 
from  its  riven  sides  a  thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  The 
sound  of  our  steam  whistle  echoed  a  long  while  among  the 
bare,  rocky  headlands  and  the  distant  shadowy  hills.  The 
legend  tells  of  an  old  viking  who  climbed  in  armor  the  per- 
pendicular wall  of  Hornelen,  1200  feet,  carrying  a  peasant 
under  his  arm.      At  Moldoen  narrows,  we  passed  so  near 


THE  LAND   OF  THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN.  211 

the  rocks  one  could  leap  ashore.  Soon  after,  the  port  of 
Cheistiansand  opened  its  landlocked  harbor  to  us.  Row- 
boats  came  about  the  steamer.  Passengers  were  landed, 
and  custom-house  officers  came  on  boai'd.  Romodahlhorn, 
5090  feet  high,  was  the  loftiest  mountain  I  saw  in  Norway, 
and  in  its  appearance  recalled  the  lines  of  Goldsmith  about 
the  tall  peak  which  is  covered  with  sunshine  while  girdled 
below  with  clouds.  It  was  a  lovely  sunset  hour  when  we 
reached  the  picturesque  old  town  of 

THEONDHJEM. 

A  Norwegian  inn  was-  a  novelty  to  me.  That  at  Thrond- 
hjem  bore  a  French  name,  Hotel  d'Angleterre,  and  was 
scrupulously  neat,  quiet  and  economical.  June  flowers 
bloomed  in  the  parlor,  and  a  piano  of  peculiar  sweetness 
and  power  furnished  me  much  enjoyment.  On  arrival, 
your  name  is  written  on  a  large  blackboard,  ruled  for 
thirty-six  names,  and  placed  in  the  lower  hall.  Meals  are 
furnished  when  ordered.  An  excellent  breakfast,  including 
delicious  boiled  and  roasted  salmon,  cream,  eggs,  and  other 
toothsome  adjuncts,  was  furnished  for  forty  cents.  Two 
days,  lodging  and  attendance  were  $1.25.  On  leaving,  I  was 
driven  all  alone,  in  princely  style,  in  an  open  barouche,  to 
the  railway  station,  with  a  driver  in  showy  livery.  For  his 
top  boots  and  gold  lace,  dazzling  buttons  and  bands,  I  fan- 
cied a  good  fee  would  be  exacted  ;  but  the  whole  thing  cost 
fifteen  cents  and  no  more. 

The  gardens  were  green,  for  it  was  June  22,  the  summer 
solstice  ;  but  I  made  snowballs  just  above  the  roadside 
from  a  bank  of  snow  left  from  the  unusually  large  deposit 
of  the  pi-evious  winter.  The  continual  day  was  a  strange 
experience.  Retiring  at  11  p.m.,  the  heavens  were  as 
bright  as  when  with  us  the  summer  sun  finds  the  western 
horizon.  It  seemed  out  of  place  to  undress  and  go  to  bed 
in  the  daytime,  as  it  were.  But  unless  one  has  proper 
sleep  he  feels  the  effects  on  his  nervous  system  in  a  few  days 
of  travel.     Then  the  downy  bed  of  spotless  white  and  gen- 


212  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

eral  comfort  of  the  inns  I  chanced  to  visit  were  alluring, 
even  though  daylight  did  not  fade. 

I  remember  the  stillness  of  the  streets,  and  how  a  Nor- 
wegian policeman  seized  and  separated  two  fellows  near 
my  open  window  who  were  talking  loudly.  He  sent  them 
off  in  opposite  directions,  telling  them  that  they  were  wak- 
ing up  the  neighborhood. 

I  spoke  one  evening,  through  an  interpreter,  to  a  little 
Baptist  congregation.  Thei'e  were  five  nations  represented  : 
the  United  States,  England,  Sweden,  Norway  and  Den- 
mark. Familiar  melodies  greeted  my  ears,  sung  to  Norsk 
hymns,  "Shall  we  gather  at  the  river?"  "  Like  a  shepherd 
lead  us,"  and  the  like.  The  hand-shakings  and  farewells 
at  the  close,  extended  to  the  stranger  from  over  the  sea, 
were  touchingly  fervent,  for  tens  of  thousands  of  Scandi- 
navians have  found  a  home  in  the  New  World.  Living 
links  of  love  bind  hearts  on  both  continents  together.  Ad- 
dressing a  crowded  audience  of  six  or  eight  hundred,  some 
days  later  in  Stockholm,  I  begun,  in  pleasantry,  by  saying  : 
"  Your  faces  look  familiar.  I  must  have  seen  some  of  you 
before.  I'm  sure  I  shall  soon  see  some  of  you  in  New 
York."  A  young  Swedish  preacher  near  the  door  started 
up  with  surprise,  saying  in  his  heart,  as,  he  afterwards  told 
me,  "  Is  it  possible.  There  is  my  old  college  teacher,  Pro- 
fessor Thwing,  who  cared  for  me  when  I  was  in  need, 
years  ago,  in  America."  He  came  to  me  and  embraced  me 
and  shed  tears  of  joy.  Then,  falling  on  his  knees,  he  gave 
God  thanks  for  this  unexpected  meeting  after  long  separa- 
tion. A  few  weeks  later,  in  North  Wales,  I  met  two  more 
of  my  students  from  Brooklyn.  These  episodes  are  de- 
lightful. At  Christiania,  my  townsman  and  valued  friend, 
Dr.  T.  L.  Cuyler,  overtook  me,  and  for  eight  days  I  was 
"  filled  with  his  company,"  the  only  American  acquaintance 
met  in  Norway.  Few  tourists  have  found  out  the  enticing 
paths  of  the  North  compared  with  the  thousands  that  flock 
to  Switzerland  and  Italy.  His  book,  "  From  the  Nile  to 
Norway,"  gives  a  racy  account  of  the  land  and  people. 


TEE  LAND  OF  TEE  MIDMGET  SUN.  213 

Throndhjem  is  the  cradle  of  the  kingdom  and  the  home 
of  the  ancient  tribe  of  the  Thronder.  By  the  banks  of  the 
Nid  the  Norsk  kings  were  crowned.  Many  are  the  legends 
that  have  grown  about  the  place  the  past  thousand  years, 
and  the  Cathedral  attracted  me,  with  Thorwaldsen's 
"  Christ  "  and  other  objects  of  artistic  and  historic  interest. 

THE    ROYAL    CITY. 

It  is  a  distance  of  three  hundred  and  thirty  miles  to 
Christiania.  The  trains  run  slowly.  There  are  sixty-three 
stations.  Twenty-four  hours  are  spent  on  the  journey. 
The  carriages  are  really  third  and  fourth  class,  though 
called  first  and  second.  In  each  compartment  there  is  fast- 
ened a  card  giving  the  names  of  the  stations  and  the  time 
of  arrival  and  departure,  also  a  thermometer.  The  scenery 
is  tame  and  grand  by  turns.  Wooden  huts  and  houses,  one 
or  two  stories  high,  battened  and  roofed,  perhaps  with 
earth  or  green  sods  ;  barns  and  farm-houses,  log-built  and 
dove-tailed  ;  tunnels  and  cascades  ;  waterfalls  dashing  over 
black  rocks  in  thin,  lace-like  sheets  ;  roaring  rivers  among 
the  wooded  ravines,  with  quiet  valleys  where  the  cow-bell 
tinkles,  and  the  lynx,  the  elk  or  red  deer  sometimes  ven- 
ture ;  sunny  nooks  or  forest  glades,  where  partridge,  bear, 
or  wolf  may  hide  ;  plane  trees,  with  maple,  spruce,  fir, 
beech  and  pine  ;  wheat  fields,  and  sorrel,  a  substitute  for 
corn,  barley,  and  oats  ;  distant  mountains — the  highest 
6000  feet ;  glimpses  of  glaciers, — the  largest  in  Europe  is 
in  Norway,  515  square  miles  in  area, — winding  streams 
and  shining  lakes,  these  are  some  of  the  objects  that  diver- 
sify the  trip,  whether  by  rail  or  carriole. 

Stopping  at  a  station  you  notice  the  smooth,  solid, 
painted  door  ;  an  elaborate  fire-place  with  molded  stone 
brackets  ;  polished  hard-wood  chairs  and  tables  shining 
like  glass  ;  decanters  of  water,  bowls  of  cream,  pots  of 
coffee,  and  sandwiches  waiting ;  leaves  of  juniper  and 
birch  fastened  about  the  walls  of  outhouses,  and  lace  cur- 
tains in  the  station-master's  room ;  beds  of  flowers  outside, 


214  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

and  a  big  brass  bell,  bright  as  gold,  secured  to  the  building 
by  a  bracket  having  a  leathern  strap  affixed  to  its  tongue. 
This  bell  announces  the  departure  of  trains. 

The  Hotel  d'Angleterre  opened  spacious  and  elegant 
quarters  to  me  at  the  royal  city.  The  porter,  Andrew  Nils- 
son,  spoke  English  and  other  languages.  This  functionary 
in  foreign  cities  is  a  man  of  importance,  and  the  post  is 
honorable  and  remunerative.  He  is  not  a  porter  to  carry 
burdens,  but  to  stand  at  the  porta  to  welcome  people  in 
their  own  tongue,  and  give  them  needed  information. 
What  we  saw,  for  there  were  two  of  us,  now — must  be 
briefly  summarized.  Sunday  we  worshipped  in  the  Festal, 
a  rich  semi-circular  hall  of  the  University — an  English 
service.  An  out-door  band  concert  was  given  at  noon. 
People  stood  in  the  rain  to  hear.  A  Norsk  service  at  5 
p.m.,  and  a  walk  outside  the  castle  of  Akershus  and  by  the 
banks  of  the  picturesque  fjord  followed.  We  both  were 
charmed  with  the  view  we  had  from  the  roof  of  the  King's 
Palace,  which  we  visited  on  a  week  day.  At  the  Univer- 
sity there  are  many  ethnographical  relics  well  worth  de- 
scription, but  guide-books  give  that  information. 

From  Christiania  to  Stockholm  is  354  miles.  Much  of 
the  country  is  "  distressingly  like  home,"  to  use  my  com- 
panion's phrase.  It  was  so  much  like  Maine  he  almost 
expected  to  hear  the  conductor  call  out  Saccarappa  or  Bid- 
def  ord,  as  we  stopped  amid  piles  of  lumber,  and  noted  the 
Yankee  houses  with  board  and  picket  fences,  wood-piles, 
bean-poles,  and  well-sweeps.  We  were  all  night  on  the 
road — there  is  "no  night  there,"  to  be  sure,  but  what  passes 
for  it,  a  sort  of  sickly  daylight.  We  had  a  four  hours' 
stop  at  Laxa.  Ladies  were  shown  into  a  room  by  them- 
selves. Dr.  C,  with  astonished  gaze,  pointed  out  to  me 
the  words  on  the  door,  in  large  capitals,  "  Dam  Rum  !  " 
As  an  ardent  temperance  advocate  he  thought  the  epithet, 
so  far  as  it  characterized  the  beverage,  was  truthful,  but  its 
use  here  seemed  ambiguous.  The  phrase  is  pronounced 
"  dahm  room,"  and  simply  means,  "  Ladies'  Department." 


THE  LAND   OF  THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN.  215 

When  the  explanation  was  given,  we  were  satisfied,  and 
went  to  our  own  place,  to  take  the  miserable  "  Rum  "  fur- 
nished for  men. 

THE   BEIDE    OF   THE   BALTIC. 

Stockholm  is  called  the  Venice  of  the  North  and  the 
Bride  of  the  Baltic.  It  is  a  very  attractive  city  with  about 
170,000  population.  The  history  of  the  place  covers  a  pe- 
riod of  seven  centuries.  Its  Westminster  Abbey  is  the 
Riddarholm,  a  grand  royal  mausoleum,  crowned  by  a  spire 
of  iron  tracery  300  feet  high,  and  having  a  chime  of  bells 
rung  only  when  one  of  the  Knights  of  the  Royal  Seraphim 
dies.  The  armorial  bearings  that  decorate  the  walls,  the 
torn  battle  flags,  drums,  pipes  and  trophies,  the  sarcophagi 
and  stone  figures  are  mute  but  eloquent  memorials.  Still 
more  interesting  to  me  was  the  National  Museum,  particu- 
larly the  collection  of  historical  relies.  Here  is  the  horse, 
stuffed,  which  was  ridden  by  Gustavus  Adolphus  in  his  last 
battle,  at  Ltltsen,  1632,  and  the  garments  of  the  hero  stained 
by  his  blood.  Here  is  the  silver  shoe  which  was  dropped  at 
the  coronation  of  Charles  XIV.,  and  the  hat  worn  by  Charles 
pierced  by  the  bullet  that  killed  him.  The  elaborate 
paintings,  coins,  vases,  exquisite  marbles  and  bronzes  which 
adorn  this  edifice  contribute  to  make  it  "  the  nation's  pride." 

The  Royal  Palace  has  its  gorgeous  halls  and  chambers, 
blazing  with  gold,  rich  in  malachite  and  porphyry,  with 
costly  Gobelins  on  the  walls,  and  massive  mirrors  reflecting 
the  splendor.  The  White  Sea,  a  vast  banqueting  and  ball 
room,  covering  more  than  a  third  of  an  acre,  formed  a  cli- 
max. We  were  allowed  to  tread  its  shining  floor  only  when 
felt  slippers  were  put  on  our  feet. 

SCANDINAVIAN   CURIOSITIES. 

A  more  instructive  visit  was  that  we  made  to  the  Ethno- 
graphical Museum.  One  is  here  introduced  into  the  domes- 
tic life  of  the  people.  Wax  figures  are  scattered  about  the 
rooms.  I  addressed  one  of  them  sitting  with  a  staff  near 
the  door,  supposing  it  was  an  attendant,  "  What  have  you 


216  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

here  ? "  An  intelligent  woman  in  the  bright  Dalecarlian 
costume  showed  me  the  various  apartments.  In  one,  a 
winter  scene  was  represented.  Wool  on  tree  and  floor  was 
cleverly  used  for  snow,  dogs,  sledges  and  Norwegian  peas- 
ants being  introduced  with  fine  scenic  effect.  Furniture, 
table-ware,  ordinary  and  bridal  costumes,  military  and 
ecclesiastical  relics  were  shown  ;  a  convict  in  irons,  the 
ancient  axe  of  the  executioner,  runic  rods,  beggars'  clubs, 
and  watchmen's  staves  ;  hurdy-gurdies,  rustic  horns,  tools, 
trinkets,  and  weapons  unnumbered.  Noticing  a  baby-chair 
with  teeth  inserted  around  the  edge  of  the  seat,  I  was  told 
that  it  illustrated  the  superstitious  belief  that  toothache  in 
the  future  would  be  averted  if  those  decayed  teeth  which 
were  removed  were  inserted  in  the  chair. 

THE   MARKET-PLACE    AT   STOCKHOLM. 

While  museums  and  picture-galleries  give  you  still  life, 
fixity,  and  repose,  the  market-place  gives  you  action,  motion, 
music.  All  over  Europe  this  was  my  favorite  resort  to  see 
and  study  people.  Here  is  nothing  rigid,  frigid,  but  all  is 
living,  actual,  vivid,  and  picturesque.  The  painter  prepares 
his  subject  as  to  dress,  attitude,  expression,  and  environment. 
These  are  sometimes  effective,  sometimes  not,  but  in  the 
market-place  everything  is  unstudied,  fresh,  and  spontaneous. 
Close  by  the  Palace  Hill  in  Stockholm,  is  the  Great  Market. 
Pages  could  be  filled  by  a  recital  of  the  tragic  scenes  which 
have  been  witnessed  here  the  past  six  hundred  years.  Exe- 
cutions took  place  on  this  spot.  At  one  time  98  men  were 
beheaded  by  a  Danish  king,  and  the  event  is  known  as  the 
"Blood  Bath." 

But  we  are  more  interested  in  the  cheerful  scenes  of  to- 
day, where  sailor  and  soldier,  Dalecarlian  peasant  in  bright 
attire,  and  Yankee  sight-seer  jostle  each  other.  What  a 
Babel  of  tongues  !  Crowing  of  cock  and  piping  of  pullet, 
shout  of  vender  and  chaffering  of  buyei-,  mingle  in  stridulous 
strains  with  the  roar  of  city  streets  and  whistling  steamers 
all  about  us. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN  217 

Here  is  coffee — so  called — for  a  penny  a  cup.  The  frugal 
dame  picks  out  of  a  little  box  some  bits  of  sugar  with  her 
fingers  and  puts  them  into  the  ambiguous  mixture.  She 
then  adds  a  spoonful  of  milk.  Having  tasted,  I  venture  to 
lift  the  tin  pot  of  milk  and  pour  a  little  more  into  my  cup. 
The  indiscretion  is  noticed.  The  old  woman  grabs  the 
precious  pot  and  takes  it  from  me,  uttering  a  string  of  sharp 
explosives  that  tell  of  surprise,  grief,  and  indignation  united 
at  what  she  evidently  regarded  robbery.  For  had  she  not 
established  the  modicum  of  milk,  and  the  exact  number  of 
crumbs  of  sugar  ?  Who  is  this  audacious  foreigner  who 
dares  to  change  the  established  order  of  things  in  Sweden  ? 
To  avoid  international  complications,  I  silently  yielded, 
having,  indeed,  at  command  no  words  adequate  for  the  occa- 
sion— and  quaffed  my  coffee,  which,  like  mercy,  was  not 
strained. 

You  notice  that  the  men  occasionally  wear  rings  dangl- 
ing from  holes  in  their  ears.  Why  not  ?  Neither  sex  should 
have  a  monopoly  in  self -mutilation.  Up  yonder  ladder  two 
women  are  climbing  carrying  mortar.  Hollow  frames  are 
fastened  to  their  brawny  shoulders  by  wooden  yokes. 
Woman  work  for  thirty-seven  cents  a  day,  while  men  get 
sixty, — and  act  like  it  when  they  get  too  much  brandy. 
The  women  come  an  hour  earlier  than  the  men,  bring  the 
tools,  and  make  the  mortar.  They  stay  an  hour  later,  7  p.m., 
put  aside  the  tools,  and  clean  up  after  the  men.  Washer- 
women are  crossing  the  market-place  to  their  laundi-ies. 
There  they  pay  twelve  cents  for  washing  twenty  pounds 
weight.  Ashes  as  well  as  soap  are  used.  The  garments  are 
dried  by  steam  and  are  very  white. 

It  is  related  of  Bernadotte,  that  when  he  was  corporal  in 
the  French  army  he  proposed  to  a  peasant  girl,  who  by  ad- 
vice of  her  friends  rejected  him  because  he  was  a  poor 
soldier.  After  he  became  King  of  Sweden  she  wrote  to 
him  and  asked  for  the  washing  of  the  palace,  which  he 
granted. 

At  the  "  Blood  Bath,"  it  is  said  that  a  beautiful  boy,  who 


218  OUT-DOOB  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

had  seen  his  father  beheaded,  remarked  to  the  executioner 
with  infantile  simplicity,  "  When  you  cut  my  head  off,  don't 
get  my  collar  dirty,  for  mamma  will  whip  me  when  I  get 
home."  Touched  by  this  remark,  the  man  of  blood  hid  the 
child.  For  this  act  of  motherly  tenderness  the  executioner 
lost  his  own  head. 

Merchandise  here  is  as  various  as  it  was  at  Stavanger, 
where  crabs  and  oysters,  carrots  and  cabbages,  strawberries 
and  blueberries,  myrtle  and  fuchsias,  shoes  and  straw  boxes, 
spoons  and  brooches,  eatables  and  wearables  are  displayed 
in  motley  confusion.  Then  perhaps  a  Punch  and  Judy 
show  may  add  to  the  scene  a  new  feature,  or  a  juggler 
swell  the  crowd,  performing  with  his  fan  and  his  eggs,  or 
swallowing  flax,  apparently  setting  it  on  fire  and  withdraw- 
ing it  from  his  mouth,  as  I  saw  in  the  Djurgarden,  an  inter- 
minable coil  of  ribbons,  red,  blue,  and  yellow. 

A    MISSIONARY    CONFERENCE. 

of  a  hundred  Baptist  preachers  from  all  over  the  kingdom 
gave  me  a  warm  reception.  Pastor  Wiberg,  since  deceased, 
acquainted  with  fourteen  tongues,  and  a  second  Ansgar  in 
apostolic  grace  ;  Professor  Broady,  a  true  Swede  yet  as  true 
an  American,  serving  as  colonel  in  our  Union  army  during 
the  Rebellion  ;  Pastor  Lindblom  and  others,  who  spoke 
English  less  fluently,  acted  as  interpreters  as  I  addressed 
the  people  at  different  times  and  places.  Within  the  pre- 
vious six  years  40,000  had  left  the  state  church.  Men  like 
Beskow,  the  Spurgeon  of  Sweden,  represent  the  best  ele- 
ments within  the  national  church.  Toleration  of  dissenters 
depends  on  the  will  of  the  parish  priest  and  the  sentiment  of 
the  local  community.  All  the  pastors  and  missionaries  I 
saw  seemed  to  be  plain,  eai-nest,  hard-working  men,  poor  yet 
making  many  rich.  Some  of  them  bore  in  their  own  body 
the  marks  of  fetters,  ball  and  chain  worn  for  Christ's  sake. 
Other  have  the  sentence  of  imprisonment,  with  bread  and 
water  fare,  hanging  over  them.  One  preacher  told  me  of 
his  first  sermon  in  a  cow-house,  with  an  audience  of  five, 


THE  LAND   OF  THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN.  219 

while  lower  animals,  horned  and  hoofed,  in  near  proximity, 
furnished  foot-notes  to  his  discourse  and  interludes  to  his 
songs.  After  three  evenings  one  man  was  converted.  The 
Lord  opened  his  heart.  He  opened  his  house  and  took  the 
persecuted  flock  into  his  dwelling.  Sixty  were  then  con- 
verted. 

Another  told  me  of  his  long  journeys  on  foot  in  the.  north 
under  the  Arctic  circle.  Leaving  wife  and  children,  he  went 
out  without  gold  or  silver  in  his  purse  or  support  guaran- 
teed by  any  society.  From  Dalecarlian  forests  on  the 
south,  up  to  the  Nordland  mountain  solitudes  toward  Lap- 
land, he  went  like  those  of  old  whom  persecutions  at  Jeru- 
salem scattered  abroad  everywhere  preaching  the  Word. 

I  introduced  Dr.  Cuyler  to  the  brethren,  and  they  gave 
us  an  evening  reception  at  the  house  of  Per  Palmquist,  the 
Robert  Raikes  of  that  country.  Rev.  Dr.  S.  F.  Smith, 
author  of  "  My  country,  'tis  of  thee,"  was  present.  Not- 
content  with  this,  they  took  us  fifty  miles  on  an  excursion 
to  old 

UPSALA    AND    ITS    UNIVERSITY. 

Guide-books  give  details  as  to  the  historic  and  literary 
features  of  the  place,  of  the  Cathedral,  tomb  of  Linnaeus, 
and  the  huge  mounds  where  the  old  gods  Thor,  Odin,  and 
Freya  are  said  to  be  buried;  of  the  University,  few  of 
whose  1500  students  we  saw,  it  being  vacation — women 
are  admitted  on  the  same  terms  as  men,  and  the  plan  is  said 
to  work  well  ;  of  the  old  Druidic  stones  and  Runic  in- 
scriptions, each  wrord  an  idseogram  ;  the  Botanic  Garden 
Observatory,  Cemetery,  Castle,  and  Mora  Stones  on  which 
the  early  kings  stood  at  coronation. 

The  University  Library,  of  200,000  volumes  and  many 
manuscripts,  is  specially  rich  in  having  the  Codex  Argen- 
teus,  1500  years  old,  the  gospels  written  in  gold  and  silver 
letters  on  188  leaves  of  parchment.  It  was  shown  to  us  by 
Lord  Levenhaupt.  We  dined  at  a  garden  cafe  in  the  open 
air,  and  then  had  a  crowded  and  enthusiastic  meeting  in 
the  Baptist  chapel.     A  large  procession  followed  us  to  the 


220  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

train,  talking  to  us  in  a  language  we  understood  not,  but 
with  farewell  gestures  expressive  of  tenderest  affection. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Glimpses  of  Finland,  Russia,  and  Denmark. 

"Standing  moon,  sailor  sleeps."  So  said  a  deck-hand, 
pointing  to  the  crescent  orb,  as  our  steamer  passed  out  of 
the  beautiful  Saltsjohn  into  the  archipelago  and  onward  to 
the  broad  Baltic.  The  promise  of  fair  weather  was  not 
fulfilled.  The  trip  from  Stockholm  to  St.  Petersburg  and 
return,  1000  miles,  is  easily  made  in  a  week.  The  excur- 
sion ticket  was  $17,  exclusive  of  meals.  Leaving  Saturday 
evening,  we  reached  Abo  at  1  p.m.  the  next  day.  Sledges 
made  this  journey  on  the  ice  with  the  mails  until  April  27. 
Even  as  late  as  May  day  (1879),  a  party  drove  with  horses 
on  the  ice  into  the  middle  of  the  Gulf  of  Finland. 

Seven  hours  delay  in  this  port  gave  us  opportunity  to  go 
ashore.  The  peasant  women  were  driving  home  the  cows, 
the  latter  wearing  tin  medals  ;  bright,  rosy-faced  Finnish 
children  were  selling  flowers,  and  a  band  of  music  was  play- 
ing in  the  open  air.  A  view  from  a  rocky  hill  was  very 
enjoyable.  As  the  old  prison  was  pointed  out,  built  1157 
as  a  castle,  the  story  of  the  king  was  told.  Duke  John  was 
imprisoned  for  conspiracy.  He  became  insane,  and,  in  the 
aimless  activity  of  his  imbecile  life,  wore  circles  in  a  stone 
table  by  the  constant  motion  of  his  thumb.  The  Cathedral 
is  called  the  cradle  of  Christianity  in  Finland,  for  here  was 
established  the  first  Episcopal  chair,  and  here  is  the  dust  of 
its  first  heralds  and  converts. 

Helsingfors  has  been  the  capital  of  the  province  since 
1819.  It  is  a  modern  town.  The  former  settlement  was 
ravaged  by  war,  plague,  famine,  and  fire.  The  removal  of 
the  university,  library,  and  senate  from  Abo  has  given  the 
place  increased  importance.  A  fortress,  built  on  seven 
islands  and  called  the  Gibraltar  of  the  North,  protects  the 


GLIMPSES  OF  FINLAND,  RUSSIA,  AND  DENMARK.  221 

capitol.  The  combined  fleets  of  France  and  England  inef- 
fectually bombarded  it  in  1855.  It  was  on  the  Fourth  of 
July  we  came  into  port,  and  I  displayed  the  stars  and  stripes 
in  honor  of  the  day. 

Finland  is  about  the  size  of  Dakota,  and  has  two  million 
people.  They  have  no  ethnic  relation  to  the  Swedes,  but 
are  a  branch  of  the  Ugrian  race,  and  that  of  the  Mongolian. 
We  have  35,000  Finns  in  the  States.  In  six  months  7000 
have  arrived.  They  are  fond  of  reading,  and  have  six 
newspapers  published  in  their  own  language.  For  sixty 
years  only  about  38,000  Russians  came  hither,  but  22,000 
have  emigrated  to  these  shores  within  ten  months  !  An- 
other tidal  wave  sweeps  from  Iceland.  The  edition  of  an 
Icelandic  paper  in  Manitoba  says  that  Iceland  is  "  bowed 
down  by  political  oppression  "as  a  Danish  province,  and 
has  sent  9000  to  America.  It  will  be  depopulated  if  the 
present  exodus  continues  many  years. 

THE   MARKET   AT   HELSINGEORS. 

Seven  years  have  fled  since  I  was  there,  but  that  outdoor 
picture-gallery  is  fresher  in  memory  than  the  Hermitage  of 
Catherine  or  the  Royal  Gallery  of  Madrid.  Not  a  single 
face  seen' on  these  palace  walls  can  I  now  recall,  but  the 
boats,  stalls,  and  tables  of  that  market-place  are  distinct  in 
thought, — aye,  the  flavor  of  the  food  tasted  at  the  hotel 
hard  by. 

It  is  a  showery  day.  Along  this  stone  pier,  nearly  up  to 
its  level,  now  at  high  water,  lie  a  hundred  fishing-boats, 
the  prow  of  each  touching  the  pier.  Each  rude  vessel  is  a 
residence  and  a  place  of  business.  Looking  down  into  one 
dark,  smoke-begrimed  cabin — a  junk  shop  and  blacksmith 
forge  in  one — you  see  two  men  eating.  Salt  fish  in  one 
hand  and  hard  tack  in  the  other,  these  form  a  fisherman's 
lunch.  These  huge,  dark  wheels,  a  foot  in  diameter,  are 
sometimes  strung  together  by  twine  passing  through  a  hole 
in  the  center  of  each.  Soaked  in  coffee  I  have  found  them 
palatable,  if  one  be  hungry,  but  the  Russian  black  bread  is 


222  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

too  much  like  asphaltum  pavement  a  year  old,  both  in  color, 
density  and  weight.  A  wedge  and  heavy  hammer  would 
be  needed  to  break  it.  The  Emperor  is  said  to  have  kept 
a  block  of  it,  cut  into  the  form  of  a  cube,  for  a  paper 
weight.  Irony,  if  not  iron,  is  in  it.  The  absence  of  sweets 
and  other  delicacies  which  ruin  American  teeth  is  a  com- 
pensation for  coarse  food,  and  explains  the  superior  integ- 
rity and  beauty  of  the  teeth  of  foreign  peasantry.  Thou- 
sands who  never  saw  a  tooth-brush  have  never  felt  a 
toothache. 

Here  are  milk-boats  with  firkins  holding  a  dozen  gallons; 
butter-boats  with  buckets  of  butter,  nice  and  yellow ; 
potato-boats  filled  with  bags  and  boxes  ;  fish-boats  with 
nameless  and  numberless  specimens,  animate  and  exani- 
mate. Fish  squirming  in  a  net  were  weighed  by  steelyards. 
If  there  were  too  many,  the  fish  were  dropped  into  the 
water  bucket.  Scores  of  stalls,  covered  and  open,  filled  the 
square  near  the  boats.  A  hundred  sunburnt  women  sold 
cheap  dry  goods,  fancy  ware,  or  stationery.  The  green- 
grocer, the  baker,  and  the  farmer  sold  from  their  carts  as 
well  as  from  stands. 

See  that  brown-faced  creature  with  ropy  hair,  and  a 
bread-basket  drawn  over  her  head  to  shield  her  from  a  driz- 
zling rain.  She  hears  our  laugh  at  her  grotesque  appear- 
ance and  pops  out  her  face  from  underneath  her  comical 
covering,  very  much  as  a  chicken  suddenly  appears  from 
under  the  uplifted  wing  of  a  hen  during  a  shower. 

There  is  another  who  has  pillowed  her  populous  cranium 
in  the  lap  of  a  fellow-fishwoman,  who  is  kindly  examining 
the  same,  though  with  no  phrenological  intent  ;  while  yon- 
der stolid  fellow  in  soiled  frock  sits  smoking  his  pipe  indif- 
ferent to  the  passing  showers.  Drosky  drivers  hover  about 
the  market-places.  Their  black  hats  look  like  cuspadores 
upside  down,  and  their  rude  vehicles  like  large  V's  spoiled 
in  the  making.  The  bungling  wheels  are  big  enough  for  a 
locomotive.  The  horse  is  hitched  by  traces  to  the  axles 
outside  the  hub. 


GLIMPSES  OF  FINLAND,  RUSSIA,  AND  DENMARK.   223 

A    FUNERAL    IN    FINLAND. 

See  that  funeral  train,  a  dozen  droskies  ;  let  us  follow. 
The  rain  is  over  and  the  sun  is  shining.  As  we  pass  along, 
a  seller  of  photographs  presses  his  pictures  on  us.  He  is  a 
more  interesting  study  than  his  wares,  for  he  speaks  Finnish, 
Russ,  Swedish,  German,  French,  and  Italian.  These  poly- 
glots are  more  common  abroad  than  here.  I  had  one  for 
guide  in  London  who  had  a  score  of  tongues  in  which  his 
one  tongue  could  wag. 

A  greenhouse  stands  at  the  gate  of  the  cemetery.  The 
grounds  have  a  pleasant  look.  It  seemed  odd  to  see  on  the 
grave-stones,  instead  of  the  name  of  the  month,  the  dates  cut 
with  commercial  abbreviations,  a  fraction  formed  by  the 
number  of  the  month  and  the  day  of  the  month,  with  a  slant 
line  drawn  between.  The  procession  has  reached  the  grave. 
The  casket,  covered  in  black  cloth,  is  lowered  by  blue  bands 
into  the  grave.  A  priest  reads  prayers  and  tosses  in  a  little 
earth  lifted  by  a  long,  slender  shovel.  Each  kinsman  drops 
in  a  handful  of  earth  or  a  flower.  The  lily  and  the  pansy  nod 
near  the  brink  and  the  lilac  bushes  overhead  send  out  their 
fragrance.  The  service  is  a  short  one.  There  are  no 
demonstrations  of  grief ;  indeed,  the  men  begin  smoking 
before  the  grave  is  filled. 

ARRIVAL    AT    ST.    PETERSBURG. 

Cronstadt,  twenty  miles  from  St.  Petersburg,  is  a  forti- 
fied triangle,  built  on  an  island,  intersected  by  two  canals, 
and  has  a  triple  harbor,  through  which  the  most  of  the  ex- 
ternal commerce  of  the  empire  passes,  although  the  water  is 
shallow  and  the  place  is  ice-bound  five  months  of  the  year. 
It  presented  an  unusually  attractive  appearance,  inasmuch 
as  "  the  first  peaceful  squadron  of  the  British  fleet  in  Russian 
waters" — as  the  London  Times  remarked — was  lying  then 
at  anchor.  Ironclads,  monitors,  war  steamers,  pleasure- 
boats  with  bands  playing,  ships  of  various  countries  with 
flags  flying,  and  smaller  craft  combined  to  make  a  gay 
spectacle.     Prince  Alfred,  Duke  of  Edinburgh,  was  on  a 


224  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

visit  here.  English  and  Russian  officers  hob-a-nobbed,  on 
whose  breasts  hung  medals  received  in  the  Crimean  war, 
when  they  fought  each  other.  Some  of  them  I  met  at  the 
table  during  the  days  spent  at  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre. 

A  drosky  driver  in  a  long  blue  cloth  robe,  bound  with  a 
drab  velvet  girdle  and  trimmed  about  the  throat  with  black 
bands,  took  me  from  the  pier  to  the  hotel  for  thirty  copek, 
fifteen  cents.  He  stopped  to  water  his  horse  on  the  way, 
for  which  privilege  he  had  to  pay.  My  passport,  vised  at 
the  dock,  was  now  taken  away  from  me  and  handed  over 
to  the  police.  I  was  told  that  but  nine  Americans  had 
been  at  this,  their  usual  rendezvous,  all  the  season.  Im- 
perial spies  were  looking  for  Nihilists.  Foreign  visitors 
were  watched.  This  was  not  inspiring.  I  took  a  short 
stroll,  and  visited  the  spot  where  Emperor  Alexander  II. 
had  been  murdered  three  months  before.  This  was  marked 
by  a  temporary  structure,  and  the  candles,  flowers,  funereal 
decorations,  and  other  mortuary  appointments  of  the  place, 
as  well  as  the  suggestions  called  up,  were  not  specially 
exhilai*ating  to  me  five  thousand  miles  from  home.  The 
newspapers  were  still  in  mourning.  But  when  I  dropped 
into  the  United  States  Consul's  office  and  was  told,  "  Your 
President  is  assassinated  !  "  my  spirits  dropped  to  zero. 

AMONG  STRANGERS. 

The  Irishman  who  visited  our  Western  Pork-opolis, 
Cincinnati,  said  that  every  other  man  he  met  was  a  pig.  I 
fancied  that  every  other  man  met  in  this  great,  grim, 
guarded  garrison  of  the  Czar  was  a  soldier.  We  met  them 
on  arrival  and  saw  them  on  departure  ;  had  them  feast-day 
and  market-day,  for  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper,  all  we 
wanted.  Of  Russ  I  knew  nothing  ;  indeed  my  German 
was  Russ-ty,  too  rusty  to  beguile  me  into  injudicious  loqua- 
city with  a  stranger  who,  after  all,  might  be  a  detective. 
As  at  Venice  in  the  days  of  the  Doges,  the  air  here  does  not 
seem  "  healthy "  for  republicans.  A  gentleman  at  the 
hotel  who  wore  the  uniform  of  an  English  navy  officer 


GLIMPSES  OF  FINLAND,  RUSSIA,  AND  DENMARK.   225 

asked  me  in  French  to  play  something  on  the  piano.  I 
was  unwise  enough  to  betray  my  nationality  by  giving  him 
<rThe  Star  Spangled  Banner."  He  didn't  talk  French  with 
me  any  more,  but,  in  our  mother-tongue  asked  me  to  visit 
him  on  shipboard.  As  I  took  up  a  copy  of  the  New  York 
Herald  another  gentleman  remarked  in  English,  "That 
paper  came  a  good  distance,"  which  opened  conversation 
and  led  to  an  acquaintance  which  has  continued  ever  since. 
He  was  from  New  York  city,  and  had  been  traveling  three 
years.  For  weeks  after  he  gave  me  his  valued  linguistic 
aid  as  well  as  the  charm  of  his  refined  and  genial  society. 
Seated  in  the  elegant  drawing-room  I  was  surprised  to  see 
two  young  ladies,  guests  of  the  hotel,  walk  in  smoking 
cigars  like  old  stagers.  They  were  Russians,  delicate, 
pretty,  modestly  attired,  and  aside  from  the  use  of  the  dirty 
weed  were  unobjectionable  in  appearance.  One  of  them 
took  "  the  burning  shame  "  from  her  mouth  and  laid  it  on 
the  edge  of  the  piano,  sat  down,  and  began  playing.  An- 
other lady  I  saw  who  smoked  while  she  stood  holding  a 
cup  of  coffee.  She  would  sip  the  beverage  and  then  puff 
the  cigar,  which  was  a  very  large  one,  and  had  an  odor — 
well,  it  was  not  the  odor  of  sanctity. 

One  of  the  features  of  novelty  in  Russian  life  is  the 
retention  of  the  Julian  rather  than  the  Gregorian  calendar. 
My  bill  at  the  hotel  was  dated  twelve  days  back,  after 
the  old  Greek  style,  rather  than  the  modern  Latin  ;  such  is 
the  antagonism  of  the  two  churches.  The  Finns  show 
their  individuality  in  adapting  the  modern.  They  do  not 
take  off  their  hats,  necessarily,  before  all  funerals  that 
pass.     They  have  their  own  coinage,  laws,  and  language. 

ETJSSIAN"    WOKSHIP. 

The  Greek  service  in  St.  Petersburg  is  in  ancient  church 
Slavonic,  and  is  very  elaborate  ;  calculated  to  impress  the 
common  people  with  awe  for  the  Czar  and  the  church  of 
which  he  is  the  head.  The  distinctions  of  wealth  and 
standing  are  abolished  in  the  house  of  God.     There  are  no 


226  OUT-BOOB  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

pews,  no" reserved  places,  but  all  occupy  a  standing  posture, 
except  when  they  how  on  their  knees  and  not  only  kneel 
but  fall  flat  in  the  dust.  It  would  not  do  the  average 
American  a  bit  of  harm  to  be  put  through  a  course  of 
genuflections  and  prostrations  after  the  Greco-Russian 
style.  It  might  help  to  moderate  some  of  his  impudence 
to  be  made  to  kneel  oftener  ;  even  to  get  his  face  fairly 
in  the  dust,  as  I  have  seen  in  the  case  of  well-dressed 
ladies,  blackcoated  civilians,  and  officers  in  gold  lace,  as 
well  as  poor  peasants. 

These  people  differ  from  the  Romish  in  rejecting  the 
Pope's  primacy,  purgatory,  supererogation,  indulgences, 
the  worship  of  images,  and  celibacy.  Believing  that  flame 
is  emblematic  of  spiritual,  as  well  as  natural  life,  they  use 
the  candle  at  baptism,  betrothal,  burial  and  other  sacred 
ceremonies.  When  I  have  seen  the  devout  stand  with 
bared  head,  even  in  the  rain,  and  cross  themselves  when 
passing  on  the  side  of  a  street  opposite  to  a  church,  I  have 
thought  of  the  contemptuous  desecration  of  modern 
sanctuaries  by  those  who  use  them  for  bazars,  raffling  and 
fortune-telling  ;  and  of  others,  who  with  covered  head  and 
cigar  in  mouth,  stand  and  smoke  and  spit  about  the 
vestibule  of  God's  House  of  Prayer. 

The  finest  bass  voices  that  this  wealthy  church  can  pro- 
cure are  secured  for  cathedral  deacons,  who  deliver  the 
recitative  solos  with  magnificent  sonorous  power. 

THE  MUSIC  OF  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

The  splendid  crescendos  are  another  feature  that  the 
conductors  of  much  of  our  humdrum  church  music  ought 
to  hear.  It  is  strange  that  so  little  is  made  of  this  simple 
but  effective  ally  of  musical  impression.  This  sign  was 
first  employed  by  Matthew  Luke,  in  England,  in  1676. 
We  have  too  many  "  swells  "  in  society,  too  few  in  music. 
Both  at  St.  Isaac's  and  at  Kazanski  Sobor  the  crescendo 
was  introduced  with  thrilling  power,  particularly  as  the 
golden  doors  of  the  ikonostas,  twenty-three  feet  by  fifteen. 


GLIMPSES  OF  FINLAND,  RUSSIA,  AND  DENMARK.  227 

opening  and  closing,  gave  opportunity  for  striking  changes 
in  the  dramatic  expression.  When  these  dazzling  gates 
of  gold  open  and  the  chief  priest  in  cloth  of  gold  comes 
out  from  the  altar  with  stately  step,  accompanied  by  his 
deacons,  bearing  the  sacred  Eucharist,  a  plaintive,  solemn 
prayer  for  the  Emperor  and  imperial  family  is  intoned, 
and  all  loyal  subjects  bow.  Then,  when  the  sweet 
sopranos  of  the  cathedral  boys  ring  out  clear  and  loud,  and 
the  other  solo  and  chorus  parts  coming  in  are  caught  up, 
to  echo  along  the  gilded  arches,  marble  walls,  and  lofty 
columns  of  Siberian  malachite  and  lapis-lazuli,  lingering 
in  deep  recesses  and  dying  away  in  distant  waves  of 
melody,  the  impression  is  indescribable  ! 

The  two  temples  referred  to  were  erected  at  the  expense 
of  upwards  of  three  millions  of  dollars  each.  This  does 
not  include  the  value  of  the  diamonds  and  other  gems  that 
deck  the  pictures  of  Mary  and  the  saints.  The  steps  to 
the  Emperor's  standing-place  are  of  jasper.  In  the 
cathedral  of  Our  Lady  I  noticed  gathered  ti-ophies  of  wars 
with  Persia,  France,  and  Turkey  in  the  form  of  torn  and 
blood-stained  battle-flags.  These,  with  keys  of  captured 
cities  and  other  military  adjuncts  make  this  part  of  the 
place  appear  like  an, arsenal,  more  after  the  style  of  the 
Riddarholm's  Kyrka,  which  Dr.  Cuyler  and  myself  visited 
a  few  days  before  in  Stockholm,  and  which  he  regards  as  the 
most  enticing  object  in  the  Swedish  capital.  Of  the 
American  chapel  here,  and  a  visit  with  Mr.  William  H. 
Ropes,  of  Boston  birth  and  honored  name,  space  does  not 
allow  me  now  to  speak. 

STREET    SCENES. 

Travelers  see  with  different  eyes.  One  American  cor- 
respondent says  :  "  Nowhere  else  have  we  seen  faces  with- 
out a  smile  and  often  with  scarcely  a  ray  of  intelligence. 
Russia  is  a  most  disappointing  country  to  travel  through. 
The  climate  is  unhealthy,  the  people  afflicted  with  every 
species  of  skin  disease,  and  in  all  our   drives  and  walks 


228  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

we  saw  scarcely  one  beautiful  face.  It  is  the  only  country 
in  which  we  have  been  swindled  and  deceived."  This  last 
note  of  his  jeremiad  is  probably  the  key  to  it  all.  I  saw 
the  bright  side  of  things  and  happened  to  escape  discom- 
forts, and  so  brought  home  pleasanter  memories.  I  never 
shall  forget,  for  example,  the  glee,  the  laughter  and  the 
shouts  of  one  happy  fellow  who,  with  his  lady,  in  an  open 
carriage  with  a  driver,  passed  me  one  day  at  a  rapid  rate. 
Whether  they  were  on  their  way  to  be  married  or  not,  I  do 
not  know,  but  either  love  or  Russian  whisky  wrought  power- 
fully on  him.  He  embraced  his  companion  at  intervals  of 
about  four  seconds,  giving  a  kiss  with  each  hug,  and  a 
joyful  ejaculation  with  each  ardent  osculation.  I  watched 
the  trio  until  they  disappeared  in  one  of  the  "magnificent 
distances  "  with  which  the  imperial  city  abounds.  The 
laughs  grew  fainter  and  the  forms  indistinct,  but  the 
amatory  exercise  continued  with  the  rhythm  of  a  pendulum. 
Nor  shall  I  forget  two  sweet-faced  boys  of  ten  or  twelve 
years  of  age,  thrown  into  my  companionship  awhile  in  my 
outdoor  rambles,  and  how  I  fell  in  love  with  them  and 
wished  that  their  speech  could  translate  the  intelligence  and 
friendliness  which  their  faces  and  actions  revealed  to  me. 

The  horse  market  was  not  visited,  but  an  acquaintance 
who  went  saw  uncanny  sights,  so  I  am  glad  to  have 
missed  seeing  "the  road  lined  with  beggars,  men  with  both 
legs  cut  off  and  their  knees  tied  to  boards,  others  with 
hands  gone,  their  clothes  dropping  off  in  rags,  and  bodies 
loathsome  with  disease."  Rev.  Dr.  Buckley,  who  went 
into  the  interior,  says  that  the  common  classes  are  filthy 
beyond  description,  and  that  a  recital  of  their  habits 
would  be  unfit  to  print.     He  adds  : 

"  Intemperance  is  exceedingly  common.  A  great  num- 
ber of  holidays  contribute  much  to  this  state  of  affairs. 
The  people  become  frightfully  drunk,  and  remain  so  until 
their  money  is  entirely  exhausted.  They  have  a  custom 
there  called  Pominki — a  remembrance  service  forty  days 
after   a   person's   death.     Once   a  year  they  visit   family 


GLIMPSES  OF  FINLAND,  RUSSIA,  AND  DENMARK.  229 

graves.  This  is  often  accompanied  by  debauchery.  But 
some  of  their  peculiarities  might  well  be  adopted  else- 
where. Whenever  a  funeral  passes  along  the  street  all 
Russians  remove  their  hats.  They  will  be  quite  offended 
if  you  do  not  take  off  your  hat  in  going  into  a  place  of 
business.  The  custom  originated  in  tlie  respect  paid  by  the 
people  to  the  image  or  picture  of  some  saint  or  holy  virgin 
which  may  be  in  the  building.  " 

The  humblest  classes  bow  to  the  ground  before  one  they 
fear,  or  from  whom  they  seek  favors,  and  kiss  the  fringe  of 
his  garments  as  in  the  East.  At  the  festival  of  Easter  it 
would  be  indecorous  for  even  those  slightly  acquainted  to 
omit  the  usual  kiss  and  embrace.  The  Emperor  salutes 
his  family  and  nobles  ;  they,  their  lower  officers  and  re- 
tainers. Even  the  meanest  sentinel  whom  the  Czar  may 
meet  receives  the  royal  grip.  So  in  civil  and  domestic  life. 
Mr.  Sears  reckons  the  number  of  such  Easter  salutations  at 
fifty  millions  in  St.  Petersburg  alone.  Lip-salve  is  said  to 
be  in  great  demand  after  this  miscellaneous  and  wearisome 
exercise. 

Although  moving  freely  about  the  streets  in  every  di- 
rection I  did  not  happen  to  meet  with  trouble  from  the 
police,  who  are  omnipresent.  In  fact,  the  porter  in  each 
dwelling  acts  in  the  dual  relation  of  servant  to  the  landlord 
and  agent  of  the  police  to  see  that  passport  regulations  are 
observed.  I  saw  nothing  of  the  Russian  wrath  which  my 
friend  tells  of,  as  when  a  driver  offended  his  master.  The 
latter  poured  forth  his  vials  of  verbal  vitriol,  the  contents  of 
which  are  represented  in  English  thus  : 

"  You  miserable  wretch,  you  uncouth,  disheveled  poltroon 
and  loafer,  you  dastardly  sluggard  and  petty  simpleton, 
why  are  you  running  into  that  drosky  ?  " 

Nor  was  my  hat  and  head  imperiled  by  a  "  stupendous 
Russian  fist,"  such  as  came  near  crushing  the  Christian 
Advocate  when  its  plucky  editor  thought  he  would  see 
what  would  happen  if  he  didn't  uncover  his  shining  pate 
before  a  priestly  procession. 


230  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 


THE   HERMITAGE   AND   PETERHOEE. 

The  Winter  Palace  did  not  open  its  doors  to  us,  but  if  it 
had,  we  could  not  spend  the  four  days  which  Murray  says 
are  required  to  properly  examine  it.  He  gives  twenty- 
six  pages  of  fine  type  to  its  description.  The  ceramic 
treasures,  the  Scythian,  Grecian,  and  Oriental  relics,  and  the 
1740  paintings  are  some  of  the  enticing  features.  But  in 
some  aspects  the  Hermitage  of  Catherine  II.  surpasses  the 
palace  proper.  It  is  a  gorgeous  exhibition  of  imperial 
splendor,  decorated  with  Siberian  marble,  malachite  and 
jasper  ;  rare  specimens  of  Greek  art ;  golden  antiquities 
from  the  Crimea  ;  paintings,  jewels,  arms,  ornaments  of 
ivory  and  diamonds,  of  ormolu  and  bronze,  and,  richer  than 
all,  120,000  volumes,  some  of  which  bear  the  author's  own 
annotations. 

Peterhofe  is  eighteen  miles  by  land.  I  went  by 
steamer  for  a  trifle,  and  enjoyed  the  scenery  of  the  Neva 
and  the  view  of  Cronstadt  and  distant  Finland.  Here  the 
gardens,  terraces,  basins,  tritons,  dolphins,  rocks,  grottoes, 
and  the  hundred  fountains  with  gilded  statues  and  snowy 
swans,  reminds  the  traveler  of  "Versailles,  particularly  when 
the  balls  and  illuminations  of  July  have  been  had.  I 
walked  awhile  under  the  lime-trees  and  the  oaks,  but  saw 
no  sign  of  royalty.  The  old  castle  built  by  Peter  the 
Great  has  been  a  museum  of  varied  treasures,  including  a 
collection  of  368  paintings,  made  for  Catherine  II.,  repre- 
senting young  Russian  girls  in  various  national  attire  with 
peculiar  scenic  effect. 

I  went  into  a  Russian  church  near  the  Summer  Palace 
and  noticed  many  young  people  present.  It  was  John 
the  Baptist's  day.  I  had  asked  one  Russian  the  name  of 
the  festival,  but  he  could  not  tell,  he  said,  there  were  so 
many  during  the  year.  He  may  have  been  a  dissenter, 
of  whom  in  the  Greek  Church  there  are  said  to  be  four- 
teen million.  Easter  festival  alone  consumes  two  months, 
being  introduced   by  eight  days'  drinking  and  carousing 


GLIMPSES  OF  FINLAND,  RUSSIA,  AND  DENMARK.   231 

called  "  Butter  week."     Hospitals  are  never  so  full  as  after 
Easter,  and  April  is  the  month  for  special  mortality. 

Of  all  the  museums,  literary,  scientific,  and  medical 
institutions,  of  the  embellishments  of  the  public  squares, 
the  statues  feminine,  leonine,  equestrian,  and  agonistic,  and 
a  thousand  other  themes  this  volume  does  not  presume  to 
treat.  Judge  B.  and  myself  were  satisfied  with  what  we 
had  seen,  and  proposed  to  face  toward  London,  by  the  way 
of  Stockholm,  Gota  canal,  and  Denmark. 

THE    GOTA   CANAL. 

Going  from  St.  Petersburg  to  Copenhagen  one  would 
naturally  take  this  much-praised  canal  and  lake  route 
across  Sweden.  We  are  glad  we  did,  but  we  would  not 
repeat  it.  Dr.  Cuyler  calls  it  a  "  fascinating "  excursion, 
and  Charles  Loring  Brace  calls  it  "  detestable."  Inured  to 
the  hardships  of  travel,  the  latter  had  found  "  nothing  so 
thoroughly  disagreeable  "  as  one  of  these  crowded  canal- 
boats.  State-rooms  had  been  engaged  weeks  in  advance, 
and  only  the  Black  Hole  remained,  called  "  cabin,"  where 
for  two  nights  and  three  days  the  passengers  were  packed 
away  on  tables  and  under  tables,  on  chairs,  settees,  and 
shelves.  There  they  ate  and  slept,  waited  upon  by  one 
woman,  who  came  in  and  out  among  the  sleepers  at  any 
hour  of  the  night. 

Twenty-five  years  had  passed,  but  I  found  a  crowd 
almost  as  great  as  Mr.  Brace  encountered.  A  hundred  or 
more  emigrants  slept  on  deck,  on  boxes,  or  under  boats. 
It  was  hard  to  move  about  the  boat,  for  they  and  their 
luggage  seemed  to  fill  almost  every  available  foot  of  space. 
'There  are  seventy-four  locks  to  be  passed  in  this  aqueous 
staircase,  and  300  feet  is  the  highest  elevation,  which  is 
reached  at  Lake  Wettern.  The  distance  between  Stock- 
holm and  Gottenberg  is  300  miles,  and  the  time  consumed 
is  sixty  hours.  We  left  Tuesday  evening  and  reached  the 
North  Sea  early  Friday  morning. 

But  four  hours'  sleep  was  had  the  first  night,  with  twelve 


232  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IS  EUROPE. 

crowded  in  the  small,  ill-ventilated  apartment  called  the 
forward  saloon.  The  sun  was  shining  when  we  went  on 
deck,  3:30  a.m.,  and  enjoyed  the  fresh,  dewy,  fragrant  air 
and  heard  the  lowing  cattle  and  the  singing  birds.  As  the 
day  wore  on  we  slowly  steamed  through  sweet  hayfields, 
where  the  toilers  rested  on  scythe  or  rake  to  see  us  pass, 
and  now  by  grove,  garden,  or  forest  where  the  huntsman's 
rifle  rang.  Boys  and  girls  just  out  of  school — as  slate  and 
lunch-basket  showed — kept  up  with  us  by  running  along 
the  grassy  bank,  getting  now  and  then  a  copper  coin  tossed 
ashore. 

Venders  of  microscopic  strawberries  offered  their  fruit 
at  a  price  which  was  in  inverse  ratio  to  the  size  of  the 
berry,  while  dealers  in  dark  bread  and  tasteless  buns  found 
buyers  among  the  multitudes  of  deck  dwellers  who  were 
bound  for  the  setting  sun.  Crossing  Lake  Wettern  many 
were  ill,  for  the  motion  to  us  was  as  great  as  we  would 
have  had  on  a  steamer  in  a  storm  on  the  ocean.  The 
Swedish  lakes  have  a  reputation  for  getting  suddenly 
angry. 

Beds  were  made  the  second  night  just  before  midnight, 
and  at  1  a.m.  I  was  waked  by  the  stewardess,  who  was  fuss- 
ing about  the  room  as  if  she  intended  that  no  one  should 
sleep.  Soon  after  four  I  was  out  of  the  malodorous  place. 
Going  on  deck  I  found  that  we  were  lying  near  the  railway 
station  of  Torebu.  My  legal  friend  and  I  would  have 
taken  the  train  here,  had  there  been  any  available.  Six 
hours  seemed  a  long  while  to  wait,  so  we  concluded  to  en- 
dure a  day  and  a  half  more  of  that  trial  of  patience  which 
worketh  experience,  in  hope  also  that  this  experience  may 
warn  others  from  coming  to  this  place  of — purgatorial  dis- 
cipline. The  fine  weather,  be  it  said,  was  a  merciful  inter- 
position, for  had  the  rain  of  the  previous  week  continued, 
the  discomforts  of  a  crowded  canal-boat  would  have  been 
heightened.  Breakfast  was  delayed  till  9  a.m.  Early  risers 
need  to  lay  in  rations.  From  time  to  time  I  bought  of 
small  children  small  baskets  of  very  small  strawberries. 


GLIMPSES  OF  FINLAND,  RUSSIA  AND  DENMARK.   233 

The  latter  were  so  diminutive  that  many  of  them,  like 
sheep,  would  go  astray  before  a  handful  could  reach  the 
mouth.  The  ex-mayor  of  Newcastle,  a  fellow-prisoner, 
remarked  that  the  proper  way  for  one  to  eat  them  was  with 
pin  in  fingers  and  spectacles  on  nose. 

Soon  another  lake,  Wennern,  100  miles  long,  was  crossed 
at  its  southern  end,  and  for  several  hours  ventral  disturb- 
ances were  resumed,  among  the  emigrants  chiefly.  Babies 
cried,  and  their  weary  mothers  kept  saying  something  like 
"  Eu — rope,"  with  both  syllables  prolonged.  Others  were 
pallid  and  very  silent,  as  if  studying  the  conundrum 
about  the  likeness  of  the  sea  and  the  sanctuary.  The  wild, 
picturesque  falls  of  Trolhattan,  "  the  home  of  the  water- 
witches,"  were  seen  between  ten  and  eleven  at  night,  just 
before  the  moon  rose.  The  forest  shades  were  deepened 
by  clouds  in  the  sky  so  that  the  charming  cascades  were 
but  dimly  seen.  After  four  hours'  sleep,  day-dawn  found 
us  in  the  pleasant  port  of 

GOTTBNBUEG. 

This  is  the  Liverpool  of  the  kingdom,  a  modern  city  and 
a  cheerful  one.  It  is  said  that  the  flight  of  an  eagle  in  the 
chase  of  a  bird  led  Gustavus  Adolphus  in  1618  to  fix  here 
the  location  of  a  new  city.  Three  miles  of  shipping  give 
a  busy  aspect  to  the  harbor.  We  took  a  drive  about  the 
delightful  environs  through  rural  lanes  and  broad  avenues, 
and  saw  bright  stucco  houses  like  Paris,  as  well  as  small 
Swiss  cottages.  In  the  workingmen's  district  of  the  city 
there  are  new,  stylish  brick  dwellings  rented  for  five 
dollars  a  month.  Wages,  however,  are  correspondingly 
low,  and  the  exodus  to  America  is  steady.  In  the  Work- 
ingmen's Hall  I  spoke  to  700  Swedes,  Capt.  G.  W.  Schroe- 
der  acting  as  interpreter.  A  short  visit  was  made  to  the 
Jewish  Synagogue,  where  we  heard  a  gray -haired  rabbi — 
clad  in  a  white  and  gilt  embroidered  tallis  and  black  robe — 
preach  to  fewer  than  thirty.  The  Gottenburg  Museum 
was  full  of  attractive  objects.     There  was  a  stuffed  whale 


•2U  OtTT-DOOB  LIFE  12f  EUROPE. 

84  feet  long.  The  picture-gallery  was  entertaining,  also 
the  Botanic  Garden.  An  out-door  evening  concert,  and  a 
dinner  with  a  prominent  citizen,  gave  us  pleasant  parting 
impressions  of  Swedish  homes  and  people. 

CATTEGAT   TOSSINGS. 

"  Eat  while  you  may,  nothing  will  stand  an  hour  hence," 
said  the  captain  to  us  at  the  supper-table.  The  sea  had 
raged  for  some  days.  "  More  shipwrecks  occur  in  the  Cat- 
tegat,"  he  added,  "  than  in  any  part  of  the  world."  Not 
the  dangerous  reefs  alone  are  dreaded,  but  changing  cur- 
rents draw  vessels  out  of  their  course.  Noticing  liquor 
about,  I  remarked  that  men  ought  to  be  abstainers  who 
have  lives  in  charge  amid  such  perils. 

"  We,  better  than  English,  can  tell  when  we've  taken 
enough,"  was  his  reply,  a  common  fallacy  the  world  over. 

Our  little  steamer  of  280  tons  rolled  and  pitched  fear- 
fully during  the  night.  Going  on  deck  at  sunrise  I  saw  the 
old  fortress  of  Krongborg,  at  Helsingor,  a  locality  rich  in 
legends. 

LEGENDS    OP   DENMAEK. 

The  red  banner  with  a  white  cross  that  floats  from  yon- 
der rampart  is  the  Dannebrog,  which  fell  from  heaven  seven 
hundred  years  ago,  when  the  brave  Waldemar,  on  the  third 
day  of  a  fearful  battle  on  the  Gulf  of  Finland,  was  near 
being  routed.  The  miracle  gave  the  kingdom  its  national 
flag. 

Under  the  fortress  sleeps  a  mighty  warrior,  Holger 
Danske.  The  clash  of  his  steel  armor  is  occasionally  heard, 
behind  the  iron  door  of  his  vaulted  chamber.  Two  auda- 
cious youths  ventured  to  visit  him  one  night.  "  Give  me 
your  hand,"  said  the  giant  chieftain.  An  iron  bar  was  ex- 
tended and  grasped  so  fiercely  that  the  impression  of  the 
grip  was  left  upon  the  metal. 

When  Denmark  is  in  danger,  the  watchful  warrior  will 
know  it,  will  rise,  come  forth  from  Kronberg,  and  strike  a 
blow  that  the  world  will  feel.     Romances  like  these  are 


GLIMPSES  OF  FINLAND,  RUSSIA,  AND  DENMARK   235 

found  in  medieval  history  and  Scandinavian  annals.  Am- 
lett,  son  of  the  King  of  Jutland,  married  an  English  prin- 
cess, became  king,  and  from  his  adventures  it  is  said  that 
Shakespeare  took  the  idea  of  his  famous  "  Hamlet.". 

Elsinore  recalls  the  fight  of  Lord  Nelson  in  1801,  and 
Campbell's  lines  about  those  dead  sailors  who  sleep — 

"  Full  many  a  fathom  deep 
By  thy  stern  and  stormy  steep, 
Elsinore ! " 

COPENHAGEN. 

The  royal  city,  "The  Merchants'  Haven,"  is  on  a  low 
island,  with  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  million  people.  A  little 
fishing  village  six  hundred  years  ago,  it  became  the  capital 
of  the  kingdom,  under  Christopher,  suffered  from  the  Han- 
seatic  League,  from  fires  and  bombardments,  and  so  has 
now  few  antiquities.  The  cathedral,  castle,  palace,  univer- 
sity, libraries  and  picture-galleries,  with  the  scientific  and 
literary  societies,  afford  abundant  materials  to  interest  the 
stranger.  But  the  Thorwaldsest  Museum,  opened  forty 
years  ago,  is  the  center  of  interest  to  most  visitors. 

This  ship-carpenter's  boy,  Bertel,  began  carving  figure- 
heads for  merchantmen,  but  at  Rome  soon  found  nobler 
work  for  his  chisel.  I  was  thrilled  as  such  historic  produc- 
tions met  my  eye  as  "  Jason  and  his  Fleece,"  "  The  Sea- 
sons," "  Day  and  Night,"  and  other  marvelous  productions, 
made  familiar  to  all  by  photograph.  To  see  the  originals, 
in  the  city  of  his  birth  and  where  he  died  (1844),  was  a 
valued  privilege.  The  "Risen  Christ  and  Apostles,"  in 
Frau  Kirk,  form  an  uplifting  spectacle  that  demands  a 
longer  study  than  hurrying  tourists  give. 

This  king  in  modern  plastic  art  gave  form  and  beauty  to 
the  most  pure  and  delicate  sentiments.  To  the  joyfulness 
and  grace  of  life  he  has  furnished  expression  which  sur- 
passes language.  As  Brace  says,  this  Northern  artist  "  has 
given  a  spring  to  the  world  and  is  a  poet  of  its  happiness." 

Tivoli  had  attracted  thousands.     Miss  Thursby  had  con- 


236  OUf-DOOn  LIFE  Itf  EUROPE. 

certs  there.  Athletes  and  acrobats,  riders  and  trapeze  per- 
formers were  surrounded  by  crowds,  and  cafes  did  a  lively 
business.  We  rode  through  the  city  streets  in  a  two-storied 
vehicle,  and  saw  the  bright  and  busy  market-places  and 
resorts  of  the  people.  In  one  square  two  thousand  or  more 
were  listening  to  a  military  band  concert. 

ACEOSS    DENMARK. 

Leaving  Copenhagen  in  the  morning,  we  reached  Korsore 
in  about  three  hours,  passing  over  level  fields,  with  wind- 
mill, cottage,  hedge,  and  garden  as  in  Holland.  Leaving 
the  train,  we  took  a  steamer  to  Kiel,  and  crossed  in  seven 
hours  the  smooth,  shining  "  Belt "  of  the  Baltic,  placid  and 
serene  as  a  mill-pond.  A  family  from  Brooklyn  formed 
pleasant  companions.  They  continued  with  us  from  Kiel 
to  Hamburg  by  rail,  reaching  the  city  at  evening.  The 
war  port  of  Germany,  Kiel,  is  a  walled  city  with  40,000  peo- 
ple. There  is  a  university,  founded  1665,  with  several 
hundred  students. 

The  Danes  are  a  thrifty  and  enterprising  people,  with 
more  polish,  but  less  power  and  independence,  than  their 
Swedish  and  Norwegian  brethren.  Lutheranism  is  the 
established  religion.     Says  a  recent  author  : 

"  Governmental  interference  chills  everything ;  it  holds  the  reins 
with  a  tight  hand,  prescribing  even  the  texts  from  which  the  minis- 
ters shall  preach — four  texts  being  given  for  each  Sabbath  in  the 
year,  from  one  of  which  the  sermon  must  be  preached — and  requir- 
ing a  statement  of  all  that  is  done  in  each  parish  of  the  land.  The 
salary  of  the  bishops,  of  whom  there  are  seven  in  Denmark  and  one 
for  each  of  the  duchies,  is  about  two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars 
a  year ;  one-fifth  of  this  sum  is  the  average  salary  of  the  clergy." 

No  wonder  that  here,  as  everywhere  in  Europe,  the  de- 
sire is  to  remove  to  America ! 


SUNNY  SPAIN  237 

CHAPTER  X. 

SUNNY   SPAIN. 

Spain  ia  a  land  of  sunshine  and  of  shadow.  Bright 
romance  and  stern  reality,  fruitfulness  and  sterility,  en- 
trancing beauty  and  repulsiveness,  meet  in  contrast  con- 
tinually. In  its  history,  scenery,  physical  features,  and 
moral  life,  Spain  is  full  of  surprises  and  contradictions.  It 
is  a  land  where  two  and  two  make  five,  according  to  Tal- 
leyrand. "  Yes  "  may  mean  "  No,"  and  "  to-morrow  "  any 
time  in  the  future.  A  robber  may  plunder  you,  and  then 
commend  you  to  the  grace  of  God.  He  will  first  take  the 
sacrament,  and  then  take  your  life. 

The  ideal  Spaniard  is  brave,  proud,  dignified,  and  cul- 
tured. The  man  you  meet  is  apt  to  be  crafty,  passionate, 
and  licentious.  But  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  at  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century  not  one-third  of  the  peo- 
ple could  read  and  write.  "  Africa  begins  with  the  Pyre- 
nees," is  a  saying  attributed  to  Napoleon,  but  its  truthful- 
ness has  been  endorsed  by  a  Romish  ecclesiastic. 

UNDER   THE   PYRENEES. 

Twenty-four  hours  from  London.  The  train  from  Paris 
and  Bordeaux  stops  on  the  frontier.  You  are  under  the 
shadows  of  the  Pyrenees  and  on  the  threshold  of  a  terra 
incognita  to  most  Englishmen  and  Americans.  You  alight 
from  your  railway  carriage,  for  the  gauge  is  changed — to 
shut  out  foreign  foes,  perhaps.  Yankee  axles,  however, 
are  made  to  elongate  and  contract  to  suit  emergencies. 

Coinage  and  language  change  at  this  the  door  of  the 
Iberian  Peninsula.  The  time  changes.  You  put  your 
watch  back  about  half  an  hour,  prophetic  of  the  backward- 
ness of  civilization  and  tardiness  of  the  slow-moving  peo- 
ple. The  scenery  changes.  You  leave  the  vinej'-ards  of 
France  and  enter  the  Switzerland  of  northern  Spain.  The 
highest  peaks  of  the  mountains  are  ever  snow-crowned, 


238  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

11,000  feet  high,  and  the  range  reaches  from  the  Mediter- 
ranean to  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  thence  to  Cape  Finisterre,  650 
miles. 

The  three  Basque  provinces,  ancient  Cantabria,  are  full 
of  scenic  and  historic  interest.  I  spent  six  days  at  the 
capital  city  of  one  of  them, 

SAN    SEBASTIAN. 

This  is  a  new,  bright  town  of  perhaps  16,000  population, 
with  few  of  Spanish  characteristics.  It  is  a  summer  resort 
for  French  and  English,  and  full  of  picturesqueness.  The 
historian  says  that  it  was,  in  1813,  "sacked  and  set  on  fire 
by  English  troops,  drunk  with  triumph  and  with  wine." 

Coming  hither  at  the  invitation  of  Rev.  WiJliam  IT. 
Gulick,  missionary  of  the  American  Board,  I  made  his 
house  my  home.  Mrs.  G.,  formerly  of  Mt.  Holyoke,  had 
established  here  a  boarding-school  where  a  score  of  Span- 
ish girls  were  daily  trained.  Since  then  (1882)  the  school 
has  become  six  times  as  large  and  is  known  as  the  North 
American  College.  The  tuition  fees  last  year  were  $2000. 
Fourteen  young  ladies  were  members  of  Protestant 
churches.  Five  received  diplomas  at  the  July  examin- 
ation, 1887.  The  appearance  of  the  students  was  credit- 
able, and  my  confidence  in  the  excellence  of  the  manage- 
ment of  the  school  Avas  certified  by  the  assumption  of  the 
support  of  two  of  the  pupils  there  for  one  year.  I  would 
bespeak  for  the  institution  the  cordial  cooperation  of  all 
friends  of  missions. 

AMONG   THE    HILLS    OP   SPAIN. 

The  Gibraltar  of  the  North  towers  over  this  pleasant 
port,  a  second  Ehrenbreitstein  and  loftier  than  Stirling's 
towers.  With  a  Spanish  guide  I  climbed  the  rampart  of 
the  Castle  de  la  Mota  ;  snuffed  the  tonic  air  of  "  breezy 
Biscay";  saw  the  superb  panorama  of  sea  and  shore,  city 
and  country  ;  visited  the  chapel  of  the  fortress,  the  graves 
of  English  officers,  and  looked  into  the  convent  shrines 
where  wooden  figures  of  Joseph  and  Jesus  were  exhibited  ; 


SUNNY  SPAIN.  239 

Mary,  also,  life-size,  clad  in  silk  and  satin  bespangled.  It 
was  on  this  ramble  I  violated  Spanish  idioms  and  pro- 
voked the  same  amusement  among  Spanish  soldiers  that 
my  Genevan  friend  gave  me  when  he  spoke  his  words 
"  Good  travel,  good  travel." 

Another  day,  with  the  sons  of  Mr.  Gulick  and  two  of  his 
accomplished  teachers,  I  had  a  long  excursion  among  hills 
eastward,  where  Basque  cottagers  dwell,  and  through  val- 
leys odorous  with  flowers  and  fringed  with  fern,  and 
shaded  by  cypress,  poplar,  and  elm.  Here,  perhaps,  is  a 
bullock-cart,  with  its  rude  wheels  and  ruder  driver,  repre- 
senting a  bygone  civilization  ;  coarse  muleteers  prodding 
their  donkeys  ;  a  group  of  peasants  in  calico  drawers  and 
hempen  sandals,  with  bright  kerchief  for  the  head  or  shoul- 
ders, and  a  band  of  gypsies,  young  and  old,  wild  and  gro- 
tesque in  features,  dress,  and  sport.  There  may  be  in  the 
center  a  dancing  girl  with  brown  face  and  ropy  hair, 
shuffling  through  the  performance  with  the  clatter  of  cas- 
tanets, the  stamping  of  heels,  and  swaying  of  the  body  and 
arms. 

Rambles  about  the  docks,  shops  of  artisans,  Romish 
churches,  into  the  Plaza  de  Toros,  where  bull-fights  are 
had  on  the  Lord's  Day  and  on  saints'  days,  and  a  visit  on 
July  4  to  the  United  States  consul's  office,  over  which  the 
flag  of  our  country  was  flying,  also  diversified  this  enjoy- 
able week. 

GLIMPSES    OF    OLD    CASTILE. 

Chai'les  V.  said  that  Castilian  was  the  only  tongue  in 
which  a  man  should  presume  to  address  his  Maker.  In  this 
province  the  purest  Spanish  is  spoken.  The  people  are 
loyal,  stern,  silent,  and  proud.  The  men  wear  long  cloaks 
and  a  queer-shaped  hat,  and  even  the  beggars  are  pictur- 
esque, bearing  sometimes  above  their  rags  a  crest  to  show 
their  descent  (fast  and  far)  from  ancient  grandees.  To 
address  such  by  any  other  title  than  gentlemen,  caballero, 
is  a  deadly  insult.  Knives  are  woi'n  in  every  peasant's 
sash,  carved  and  often  inlaid  with  an  ivory  or  silver  cm- 


S40  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

cifix.  "  The  knife  is  indiscriminately  used,"  says  Bodfish, 
"to  slice  a  melon,  or  lay  bare  a  quarrelsome  neighbor's 
heart." 

Spanish  railways  are  a  task  on  patience.  Fifteen  miles  an 
hour  is  the  average  rate  of  motion  ;  it  would  be  a  solecism  to 
talk  of  "  speed."  Seventeen  hours  were  consumed  in  going 
to  Madrid  !  There  are  sixty  stations.  The  distance  is  382 
miles  ;  fare,  first  class,  $15.  For  the  first  few  hours  from 
San  Sebastian  the  scenery  was  charming.  Roman  roads 
smooth  as  a  floor  threaded  through  fields  of  grain  where 
the  reapers  were  ;  they  bounded  gardens,  verdant  hillsides, 
and  well-tilled  patches  that  told  of  peaceful  industry. 
There  were  deep  valleys  sprinkled  with  sheep  and  beautified 
with  shining  streams,  where  the  ilex  and  the  beech  were 
growing  ;  while  over  all  this  ever-changing  picture  of 
fruitfulness  and  loveliness  hung  a  sky  of  sapphire,  in  which 
floated  airy  clouds  that  made  soft  shadows  on  the  sward  and 
clothed  the  mountains  in  royal  purple.  I  read  "  The  Cid  " 
amid  the  scenes  it  described,  and  chatted  in  poor  French 
with  a  Spaniard  about  army  matters.  Lottery  tickets  were 
offered  me  at  railway  stations.  Water  was  for  sale,  and 
milk,  as  in  Italy. 

BURGOS   AISTD   VALLADOLID 

claim  great  antiquity.  The  grandchildren  of  Noah,  some 
say,  were  the  first  settlers.  City  directories  of  that  date, 
however,  are  out  of  print,  and  their  street  address  is  lost. 
The  Cid  was  born  in  Burges,  1056,  and  his  dust  is  shown  in 
an  urn  for  a  proper  pecuniary  consideration.  The  shadows 
of  evening  fortunately  hid  from  view  the  crowds  of  tat- 
tered beggars  and  starving  hidalgos  that  swarm  here, 
muffled  to  the  eyes  in  ragged  cloaks  ;  for,  says  Dr.  Man- 
ning, "  to  the  true  Castilian  nothing  seems  so  dreadful  as 
fresh  air,  unless  it  be  fresh  water  !  Burgos  has  become  a 
perfect  hot-bed  of  beggars."  Yet  here  a  noble  race  once 
kept  at  bay  imperial  Rome  as  well  as  fierce  Moslem. 

The  cathedral  is  regarded  by  some  as  the  finest  in  Spain. 
At  Valladolid  there  is  a  university  famous  in  the  history  of 


SUNNY  SPAIN.  241 

law  and  medicine,  the  house  where  Columbus  died,  the 
homes  of  Calderon  and  Cervantes.  The  Inquisition  of 
ghastly  memories  was  gutted  by  Bonaparte  and  put  to 
better  use  as  a  barrack.  Here  in  the  market-place  the  first 
martyr  gave  his  life  to  Jesus.  Long  and  fiercely  blazed 
the  fires  of  the  auto  dafe,  while  in  England  Cranmer,  Rid- 
ley, Latimer,  and  many  others  were  sacrificed  by  the 
bloody  Mary.  The  story  of  the  Spanish  Aemada,  fitted 
out  in  the  summer  of  1588,  is  recalled  by  this  third  centenary 
celebration  in  England.  Its  fate  was  concisely  told  in  the 
inscription  which  Elizabeth  put  on  the  medal  then  struck, 
"  The  Lord  sent  his  wind  and  scattered  them."  The  fatuity 
as  well  as  cruelty  of  Spain  was  shown  not  only  in  the  mur- 
der of  its  best  citizens  but  in  the  expulsion  of  three  million 
of  its  wealthiest  and  most  intelligent  inhabitants,  a  suicidal 
act  from  which  it  never  recovered. 

APPBOACH   TO   MADEID. 

Only  by  the  interposition  of  colored  glasses  could  I  toler- 
ate the  burning  skies  that  hung  over  the  hideous  sterility 
that,  for  many  a  league,  surrounds  the  royal  city.  Vast 
sand-plains  are  treeless  and  waste,  solitary  deserts,  save 
here  and  there  rough  stone  huts  appear  amid  the  desola- 
tion. Madrid's  claim  to  a  river  elicits  many  a  "  dry  "  joke. 
Alexandre  Dumas  tells  of  his  disappointment  in  finding 
bridges  with  nothing  to  bridge  over,  and  King  Ferdinand  II. 
ordered  the  river-bed  to  be  watered  to  lay  the  dust  before 
he  rode  across.  Even  a  fainting  gladiator  has  declined  a 
glass  of  water,  saying,  "  Pour  it  into  the  river,  it  needs  it 
more  than  I  do."  The  French  army  cried,  "Has  the  river, 
too,  run  away  ?  " 

It  is  a  maxim  of  the  citizens  of  this  proud  capital  that 
"  Where  Madrid  is,  let  all  the  world  be  silent.  Who  has  not 
seen  it,  has  seen  nothing."  Foreigners  are  apt  to  complain 
of  its  veneer  and  sham,  "  of  men  without  courage,  women 
without  modesty,"  and  a  deadly  air  that  stealthily  snuffs 
put  life  with  a  breath  that  disturbs  not  a  candle,     Th$ 


242  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

blistering  heat  of  midsummer  and  the  icy  air  of  snow-clad 
mountains  do  sometimes  work  mischief,  and  lung  troubles 
are  common  and  fatal.  Dr.  Manning  calls  Madrid  the 
noisiest  city  in  the  world.  In  Pastor  Fliedner's  hospitable 
mansion  near  the  palace  I  found  quiet.  My  street  strolls 
brought  me  into  no  noisier  scenes  than  those  of  Naples. 
The  hucksters,  water-carriers,  and  musicians  by  day,  the 
shouts  of  the  watchmen  by  night  announcing  the  hour  and 
the  weather,  gave  me  little  annoyance. 

SCENES    IN   THE   EOTAL   CITY. 

My  first  visits  were  to  the  schools  established  by  Protes- 
tant missionaries,  German  and  Irish,  and  to  a  children's 
hospital,  all  of  which  awakened  liveliest  interest  and  sym- 
pathy. Mr.  Fenn,  Mr.  Jameson  of  the  IT.  P.  Scotch  church, 
and  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  were  visited.  They  are  doing  a  grand 
work  in  their  individual  fields. 

A  stroll  through  the  Queen's  Gardens,  among  the  beau- 
tiful trees  and  fountains  of  the  Prado,  into  the  palace  and 
over  the  armory  furnished  ample  materials  for  a  long 
chapter.  In  the  vestry  the  chaplain's  chasuble  was  handed 
me  to  lift,  it  was  so  heavy  with  gold.  It  is  valued  at 
$50,000.  Drawer  after  drawer  was  opened  containing 
similar  specimens  of  ecclesiastical  extravagance. 

More  satisfying  was  the  magnificent  gallery  where  2500 
works  of  Murillo,  Velasquez,  Rubens,  Raphael,  and  other 
masters  are  seen,  a  historic  reminder  of  the  zenith  of  art  in 
sunny  Spain,  when  her  proud  rule  extended  far  and  wide. 
It  is  regarded  the  best  collection  of  original  paintings  in 
Europe.  The  National  Museum  of  Archaeology  was  also 
visited  ;  but  this,  the  libraries  and  churches  can  not  be 
described  in  detail. 

AN   EXCURSION  TO   TOLEDO. 

This  is  a  seven -hilled  city,  the  Rome  of  Spain.  Stod- 
dard's lectures  had  made  me  so  familiar  with  the  neighbor- 
hood that  I  was  startled,  in  crossing  the  Tagus,  with  the 


STTNNY  SPAIN.  243 

idea  that  I  must  have  been  there  before.  Carlos,  my 
Spanish  guide,  moved  with  celerity,  and  we  made  the  most 
of  our  six  hours'  stay.  The  heat  was  intense.  Narrow 
streets  were  sought,  and  at  noon  we  lunched  in  the  house 
where  Cervantes  once  dwelt.  The  old  and  new  meet  here 
in  strange  juxtaposition.  Under  the  shadow  of  the  ancient 
Gate  of  the  Sun  sat  a  girl  running  a  sewing-machine,  very 
likely  from  New  York.  This  recalled  the  old  Druidic 
column  seen  on  a  Norwegian  headland  supporting  a  tele- 
graph wire,  palpitating  with  the  life  of  this  exciting 
century. 

The  gorgeous  cathedral,  with  the  richest  altar  screen  in 
the  kingdom,  and  an  idol  adorned  with  85,000  pearls, 
representing  Mary,  with  a  slab  which  bears  the  print  of  her 
foot,  on  dit  y  the  gothic  cloisters  of  the  splendid  convent 
of  San  Juan  ;  the  Transito,  a  synagogue  of  richest  orna- 
mentation in  the  midst  of  the  humble  homes  of  Jews  ; 
Santa  Maria,  of  Moorish  and  Byzantine  features,  and  the 
Alcazar,  once  a  Gothic  a*hd  then  a  Roman  citadel,  now  a 
mere  relic  if  not  a  ruin — these  were  seen  in  turn.  A  ramble 
among  the  booths  and  shops  entertained  me.  A  Toledo 
blade,  navaja,  as  the  Arabs  call  this  savage  knife,  was  pur- 
chased as  a  souvenir  of  a  busy  and  instructive  day. 

THE   ESCURIAL. 

"  There  is  a  Moor  1 "  said  my  companion,  pointing  to  a 
sad  and  silent  man.  The  lament  of  Hood  at  once  came  to 
my  lips,  "  One  more  unfortunate  ! " 

Pushing  aside  the  beggars,  pipe-peddlers,  fruit-sellers, 
tinkers,  hat-box  venders,  crockery,  chair  and  pastry 
mongers,  we  reached  the  station  and  took  tickets  for  the 
Escurial,.  about  thirty  miles  distant.  The  name  means 
"  iron  dross,"  so  called  because  of  the  iron  works  formerly 
located  here.  The  desolate  region  is  in  keeping  with  the 
gloomy,  austere  King  Philip  II.,  who  reared  a  mausoleum, 
convent,  and  palace  in  one,  "Newgate  magnified  a  hundred 
times."    Its  gridiron   shape  is  said  to  commemorate  the 


244  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

martyrdom  of  St.  Lawrence,  sixteen  centuries  ago.  Pra- 
dentius  makes  the  faithful  saint  cool-tempered  even  in  the 
fire.  Roasted  on  one  side,  he  asked  to  be  turned  and  tasted, 
to  see  if  he  were  well  done  ! 

It  is  an  unattractive  place  for  the  "  eighth  wonder  of  the 
world,"  a  lodge  in  the  wilderness,  an  apple-tree  among 
thorns,  a  regal  pile  in  a  potter's  field.  Its  circuit  is  about 
one  mile.  There  are  8  organs,  51  bells,  80  fountains,  86 
staircases,  1860  rooms,  and  nearly  3000  windows.  No 
medical  college  ever  collected  such  a  lot  of  odd  toes,  teeth, 
stray  legs  and  arms,  vagrant  skulls,  and  the  like,  7500 
"  relics  "  in  all.  The  kingly  monk,  or  monkly  king,  lived 
here  nineteen  years  and  died  a  horrible  death,  like  Herod, 
in  1598.  The  table  on  which  Philip  signed  his  infamous 
orders,  the  chair  in  which  the  gouty  sufferer  sat,  his  library, 
chapel,  and  burial-place  were  in  turn  examined.  They  are 
invested  with  a  sad  but  fascinating  interest. 

It  was  a  relief  to  go  from  this  gloomy  grandeur  and  see 
the  Sanitarium  which  Pastor  Fliedner  was  building  for 
poor  children,  who  now  in  summer-time  here  enjoy  moun- 
tain air.  The  breeze  is  very  strong  at  times,  raising  some 
things  heavier  than  dust,  as  once  when  a  pompous  ambas- 
sador with  his  carriage  and  horses  was  raised  some  distance 
heavenward. 

MATYRm  TO   SAEAGOSSA. 

It  was  an  all-night  ride,  213  miles,  38  stations.  For 
about  twelve  hours  I  tasted  the  discomforts  of  a  second- 
class  carriage.  Hard  benches  and  villainous  tobacco-smoke 
left  indelible  impression  on  memory.  At  3 :  30  a.m.  morning 
brightened  the  sky,  and  at  7  o'clock  we  came  into  what  was, 
in  the  days  of  Christ,  called  Caesarea-Augusta,  afterwards 
shortened  into  its  present  name.  Having  breakfasted  at  a 
small  inn  with  the  gi*andiloquent  designation  "  Hotel  of 
the  Universe,"  I  sauntei'ed  out  into  the  streets  of  this 
historic  city,  the  capital  of  Aragon.  Of  course,  the 
memories    of    Augustina,  the    Maid  of    Saragossa,  were 


SUNNY  SPAIN.  245 

uppermost,   Childe    Harold    having    been  my  boyhood's 
favorite. 

"  Her  lover  sinks  !  she  sheds  no  ill-timed  tear ; 
Her  chief  is  slain  !  she  fills  his  fatal  post ; 
Her  fellows  flee,  she  checks  their  base  career  : 
The  foe  retires,  she  heads  the  sallying  host ! ' 

The  appalling  scenes  of  famine,  bloodshed,  and  death 
associated  with  the  sixty-three  days'  siege  of  1808  can 
hardly  be  conceived.  There  were  15,000  who  lay  dead  or 
dying.  Every  house  was  a  fortress.  Along  the  narrow 
streets  ran  a  crimson  tide,  and  from  the  windows  infuriated 
women  poured  boiling  oil  upon  the  French  invaders.  The 
name  of  this  town  has  ever  been  "  a  cry  of  war  to  the 
army  and  a  cry  of  liberty  to  the  people."  Its  memories 
are  tragic  and  its  aspect  somber.  The  market-place  was 
the  place  where  multitudes  of  Christian  martyrs  were 
burned.  From  the  balconies  of  the  old  stone  houses  about 
there  many  eyes  may  have  gloated  over,  but  some  must 
have  looked  on  such  scenes  with  pitying  sympathy. 
Although  the  power  that  perpetrated  these  inhumanities 
boasts  its  unchangeableness,  the  civilization  of  the  future 
never  again  will  tolerate  the  barbarism  of  the  Inquisition. 
Here  and  elsewhere  the  place  of  torture  is  now  used  for 
industrial  or  other  reputable  purposes.  Intelligent  mem- 
bers of  the  established  church  themselves  plead  for  religious 
freedom.  Better  days  are  surely  coming  to  this  darkened 
land. 

MISSIONARY   ENTERPRISE. 

A  brother  of  the  San  Sebastian  missionary  kindly  gave 
me  lodgings,  and  Don  Manuel  Carrasco,  an  assistant,  was 
very  attentive.  Their  training-school  of  young  men  was 
doing  a  grand  work  in  education.  They  had  the  aid  of 
B.,  a  second  Joan  of  Arc  in  a  spiritual  sense  ;  a  woman  of 
wonderful  personality,  of  rare  intellectual  and  oratorical 
gifts  consecrated  to  Christ.  She  was  once  a  member  of  a 
political  club  in  this,  "  the  hot-bed  of  revolution,"  unmar- 
ried and  unfurnished  with  means  beyond  what  her  daily 


246  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

toil  earned.  She  refused  aid  from  any  organization,  but 
trusting  in  God  she  went  up  and  down  among  villages  as 
a  flaming  fire,  preaching  to  her  sex  the  grace  that  bringeth 
salvation.  Guards  were  placed  at  the  doors  to  keep  away 
crowds  that  would  gladly  enter,  for  the  law  allowed  her  a 
limited  number  to  meet  in  a  private  house  for  worship. 

The  steadfastness  of  converts,  like  that  of  the  mission- 
aries, is  worthy  of  all  praise.  Physical  suffering,  loss  of 
property,  imprisonment,  and  repeated  attempts  at  assassi- 
nation show  that  the  old  heroic  spirit  of  three  centuries 
ago  still  lives.     Changing  Pierpont,  we  may  say  : 

"  The  maetyk  spirit  is  not  dead  ! 

It  walks  the  earth  in  noon's  broad  light, 
And  watches  the  bed  of  the  glorious  dead, 

With  the  holy  stars  at  night ! 
It  watches  the  bed  of  the  brave  who  bled, 

And  shall  guard  this  rock-bound  shore, 
Till  the  waves  of  the  bay,  where  the  Armada  lay, 

Shall  foam  and  freeze  no  more  1 " 

OUTDOORS    AND   IN". 

The  bridge  over  the  Ebro  was  built  1437,  when  Colum- 
bus was  in  his  cradle.  Near  it  I  saw  a  lot  of  colossal  fig- 
ures stored,  representing  Don  Quixote  and  other  grotesque 
fancies,  which  are  carried  on  frames,  as  a  part  of  the  amuse- 
ment of  fete  days.  Cups  of  porchata,  sold  in  the  street, 
I  found  to  be  an  excellent  substitute  for  ice  cream.  The 
gilded  metallic  crescent  basin,  vacia,  fitted  under  the  chin, 
is  the  sign  of  the  barber.  Every  old  Spanish  town  seemed 
a  glossary  and  commentary  on  my  early  studies,  and  re- 
celled  Signor  Bello  and  Cambridge  days  of  1851-5.  No 
one  will  ever  regret  the  thoroughness  with  which  he  pre- 
pares himself  for  foreign  travel. 

The  Leaning  Tower,  like  its- duplicates  all  over  Europe, 
does  not  alarm  you  by  its  undue  obliquity.  Its  age  as  an 
octangular  Moorish  clock-tower  is  its  principal  feature  of 
interest.  The  philosophical  apparatus  in  the  University 
was  examined  with  interest.     The  exquisite  melody  of  the 


SUNNY  SPAffl.  247 

boy  choir  at  St.  Paul's  ;  the  ruined  convent  of  St.  Engracia 
and  its  legends  ;  the  two  cathedrals — Madrid  has  not  even 
one — and  the  votive  offerings  are  remembered. 

Like  Diana  of  Ephesus,  El  Pilar  is  worshipped  devoutly. 
In  a  single  day  50,000  have  visited  it.  The  idol  receives 
such  continued  oscular  and  labial  pressure  as  to  be  worn 
quite  smooth.  I  noticed  the  portrait  of  a  man  whose  am- 
putated leg  was  restored,  March  23,  1640,  by  rubbing  on 
the  stump  the  lamp-oil  burned  before  the  idol  !  The  spot 
was  pointed  out  when  Durans  murdered  the  bloody  inquis- 
itor San  Pedro,  September  15,  1495,  while  at  his  devotions. 
At  the  burning  of  the  assassin  several  "  combustible  Jews  " 
were  added. 

THE    CITY    OF   HERCULES. 

Barcelona  is  226  miles  from  Saragossa.  The  fiery  heat 
the  blazing  sky  and  burning  sands  that  glared  during  much 
of  the  time,  twelve  hours,  made  the  railway  ride  anything 
but  comfortable.  My  eyes  were  inflamed,  in  spite  of  every 
precaution.  Lerida  with  its  cathedral  fortress  and  river 
are  "worth  a  visit  from  England  to  see,"  says  Street. 
Herodias  and  her  daughter  danced  on  the  ice  here  one  win- 
ter's day.  They  both  fell  through  and  Herodias  drowned  at 
once,  quietly.  Salome,  with  historic  propriety,  allowed 
the  ice  to  enclose  her  neck  and  was  beheaded  !  Gredat 
Judceus  Apella,  as  Horace  would  say. 

Pastor  Simpson  gave  me  a  brotherly  welcome  to  his 
charming  home.  Never  was  green  so  welcome  as  after  the 
sand  and  cinders — "  many  of  them  would  weigh  a  pound  " — 
were  removed  from  my  eyes,  and  once  more  I  saw  clearly. 
In  his  garden  was  the  vine,  pomegranate,  pine,  orange, 
cherry,  banana,  acacia  and  palm-tree.  The  creamy  milk 
and  fruits  were  also  relished.  But  even  Paradise  had  mos- 
quitoes, perhaps.  Barcelona  has.  The  gnat  of  San  Sebas- 
tain  and  the  cimex  lectidarius  of  Madrid  were  worse,  how- 
ever. They  are  to  be  studied  in  the  light  of  Bushnell's 
"  Moral  Uses  of  Dark  Things." 

Some  make  Hamilcar  the  founder  of  this  city,  and  others 


248  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

associate  it  with  Hercules  of  pre-historic  times,  who  came 
amid  the  gardens  fair 

'*  Of  Hesperus  and  his  daughters  three, 
That  sing  about  the  golden  tree." 

The  golden  apples  were  Spanish  oranges,  and  Juno's 
gardens  were  in  this  happy  Iberian  land.  In  this  aurifer- 
ous region  the  Phoenicians  found  gold  enough  to  fill  their 
ships.     They  even  made  their  anchors  of  gold. 

THE   IBERIAN  PENINSULA. 

It  is  not  unlike  the  Holy  Land  in  some  its  natural  and 
social  features.  One  Sunday  evening  I  stood  upon  the 
house-top  and  thought  of  David's  meditations  and  of 
Peter's  prayers.  The  purple  Pyrenees  were  glowing 
beneath  the  westering  sun,  and  the  blue  Mediterranean,  on 
which  our  Lord  has  looked,  glistening  in  the  east.  The 
law  about  putting  a  battlement  about  the  house-top  to 
prevent  one  falling  from  the  roof  was  recalled,  as  I  leaned 
against  the  stone  parapet.  The  close  of  the  previous  Sab- 
bath at  Saragossa  found  me  with  American  missionaries, 
in  the  cool  of  the  day,  on  just  such  an  outlook.  The  silent 
stars  looked  down  upon  that  ancient  city  as  they  did  when 
Aurelius  Prudentius,  fifteen  centuries  ago,  sat,  in  that  very 
street  perhaps,  and  wrote  his  fourteen  hymns  about  the 
crowned  ones,  "  Libri  Peristephanon  "  in  praise  of  martyred 
saints,  and  his  "  Psychomachia,"  the  unending  struggle  of 
sin  in  the  soul.  The  house-top  is  a  good  oratory.  Descend- 
ing into  the  house  you  see  the  huge  water-pots,  holding 
nearly  a  barrel ;  the  fire  of  coals  ;  the  ancient  lamps,  the 
stone  manger,  the  deep  round  stone  well,  the  fellowship  of 
man  and  beast  in  the  posada,  quite  like  a  caravansery;  then 
the  threshing  floor,  the  winnowing  fan  or  shovel,  and  many 
other  objects,  clearly  Oriental.  There  is  the  turban,  sandal, 
and  girdle,  that  remind  you  of  the  East;  forms  of  the  house- 
hold etiquette  and  rites  of  hospitality  which  might  be  des- 
cribed in  detail. 

There  is  much  in  the  natural  aspects  of  Spain  at  present 


sumrr  spain.  249 

which  is  like  Palestine.  Parts  of  each  land  are  beautiful,  but 
much  is  an  arid  desert,  treeless,  songless,  and  desolate.  In 
the  north  of  Spain  you  find  lovely  Swiss  scenery,  but  south- 
ward it  is  a  vast  sand  plain,  hideous  in  sterility.  The  dust, 
dirt,  bugs  and  insects,  with  the  fiery  splendor  of  cloudless, 
rainless  heavens,  week  after  week,  tell  on  the  endurance  of 
a  stranger.  Yet  one  may  travel  at  night  in  midsummer  with 
comparative  comfort,  and  by  avoiding  the  noontide  heat 
accomplish  a  great  deal  in  the  way  of  sight-seeing. 

SOCIAL    LIFE   AND   CUSTOMS. 

The  thick  walls  of  the  houses  make  the  temperature  much 
cooler  than  in  American  houses.  The  narrow  streets  also 
shut  out  the  hot  sun.  The  death-rate  is  large  in  Spanish 
cities.  A  citizen  of  Barcelona  told  me  that  the  growth  of 
this  busiest  city  of  Spain  depended  on  the  influx  of  residents 
from  other  provinces,  for  in  the  densest  part  there  were 
more  deaths  than  births.  The  lack  of  water  in  the  homes 
of  the  poor,  the  stench  of  neglected  sewers,  and  the  general 
ignorance  and  thrif tlessness  of  the  lower  classes,  combine  to 
increase  the  mortality.  I  did  not  form  a  very  exalted  idea 
of  medical  skill  from  what  was  told  me.  Bleeding  is  a 
common  method  of  relieving  both  men  and  beasts.  A  poor 
horse  loses  a  pound  at  a  time.  Thirteen  or  seventeen  sea- 
baths  are  ordered  to  be  taken  by  women  of  delicate  make. 
They  shiver  a  half -hour  at  a  time  in  the  surf  as  if  the  thing 
were  penance,  as  it  is.  The  number  ordered  is  odd,  the 
days  odd  on  which  they  are  to  be  taken;  in  fact,  the  whole 
treatment  is  very  odd.  But  public  bathing  is  as  fashionable 
as  private  bathing  is  unfashionable.  I  was  shown  people 
who  never  wash;  yet  one  of  these  would  not  drink  from  the 
cup  from  which  you  took  a  sip  of  water  unless  it  were 
rinsed  carefully.  He  would  perhaps  smash  the  earthen  jug 
of  water  if  you,  in  drinking,  had  chanced  to  touch  the  nozzle 
to  your  lips. 

It  was  a  suggestive  sight  to  see  the  asses  and  goats  stand 
before  the  doors  of  fine  houses  on  the  best  avenues,  to  be 


250  OUTDOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

milked.  It  was  certainly  a  saving  of  carts  and  cans  and 
horses.  More  than  all,  there  was  no  chance  for  cheating  by 
watering  the  milk.  You  get  no  chalk  or  skimmed  milk, 
but  the  milk  of  the  "  udder  kind,"  genuine  and  good. 

The  iron  brackets  under  the  lofty  cornices  remind  you 
that,  in  moving,  all  articles  are  lifted  by  pulley  up  to  and 
taken  in  at  the  windows.  These  windows  are  wide  glass 
doors  and  admit  the  largest  articles.  Each  family  has  a  flat. 
Much  time,  trouble,  noise,  and  breakage  are  saved  by  this 
method  of  moving.  Large  crates  and  straw  are  furnished 
in  which  fragile  things  are  kept  secure,  and  the  expense  of 
moving  is  but  four  or  five  dollars.  Huge  knockers  are  out- 
side the  main  entrance.  This  is  closed  at  1 1  p.m.  You  call 
your  servant  by  striking  the  number  of  your  floor — 1,  2, 
3,  or  4.  If  yours  is  the  ground  floor,  a  series  of  sharp  raps 
inform  those  inside  that  you  are  a  belated  basement  lodger. 

SCENES    IN  BARCELONA. 

A  painting  of  the  harbor  by  Andrew  Melrose  had  for 
years  adorned  my  study  walls.  I  was  glad  to  verify  its 
accuracy  and  witness  the  busy  scenes  within  the  mole  and 
along  the  jetty.  The  Rambla,  a  well-shaded  boulevard, 
furnished  a  cheerful  picture  of  outdoor  life  and  a  study  of 
faces,  gait,  and  pantomime  such  as  always  delighted  me. 
The  market-place,  the  somber  cathedral,  and  the  cemetery 
were  visited.  The  latter  recalls  memories  of  the  plague, 
when  thousands  fell  victims  of  yellow  fever.  The  vaults 
are  in  perpendicular  rows  of  seven,  the  depth  seven  feet, 
and  the  aperture  two  feet  square.  The  indecent  cramming, 
in  some  instances  of  uncoffined  remains,  gives  a  fresh  argu- 
ment for  cremation  as  a  sensible  sanitary  measure. 

Visits  were  made  to  schools  and  chapels,  and  addresses 
given  through  an  interpreter.  Since  1882  a  cottage  hospital 
has  been  established  by  the  Protestant  missionaries.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lund,  whose  acquaintance  before  their  marriage  I 
had  made  in  Sweden,  Mr.  Payne  and  others  are  doing  effi- 
cient service  in  this  city. 


SUNNY  SPAIN.  251 

Excursions  may  attract  the  visitor,  that  to  Monserrat 
particularly.  The  monastery  recalls  the  name  of  Loyola, 
and  the  riven  peaks  the  earthquake  at  the  crucifixion,  at 
which  hour,  it  is  believed,  this  mountain  was  torn  asunder. 
Gerona  is  a  quaint  town,  said  to  be  2800  years  old.  Views 
of  the  Mediterranean  at  this  point  are  delightful. 

THE    GYPSIES    OF   FIGUERAS. 

Two  days  in  this  border  town  closed  my  Spanish  tour. 
It  is  a  broad  plain  amid  olive-trees.  A  vast  fortress,  with 
bomb-proof  arsenals  and  magazines  and  barracks  for  20,000 
men,  with  inexhaustible  cisterns  of  water,  guards  this  stra- 
tegic point.  But  the  only  interest  to  me  about  this  old, 
decayed  town  is  that  heroic  missionaries  like  Pastor  Cifre 
and  wife  of  Boston,  Pastor  Rodriguez  and  wife — an  English 
lady  whom  I  knew  before  her  marriage — are  willing  to  risk 
their  lives  in  this  malarious  place  to  do  good,  amid  many 
hardships  and  discouragements. 

The  last  night  spent  in  Spain  I  addressed  a  congregation 
of  a  hundred  Catalonians  and  gypsies.  The  room,  the  peo- 
ple, and  the  service  are  vividly  before  me  now.  A  motley, 
crowd  they  were,  men  and  women,  of  various  ages,  com- 
plexions and  conditions.  Their  head-dresses,  their  gar- 
ments, and  their  voices  were  novel.  A  dim  light  but  partly 
revealed  the  people  and  the  dingy  chapel.  They  listened 
with  attention,  and  when  they  sang  their  voices,  strong  and 
stridulous,  had  a  kind  of  pathetic  sweetness  that  impressed 
me.  They  lingered  after  meeting,  and  expressed  their 
gratitude.  A  village  doctor,  wishing  to  show  his  apprecia- 
tion, offered  me  his  services  without  pay.  My  confidence 
in  Spanish  systems  of  therapeutics  was  not  great;  besides, 
what  could  a  well  man  do  with  his  pills  and  plasters  ?  His 
simple-hearted  thankfulness,  however,  was  typical  of  the 
sentiment  there  and  elsewhere  prevailing,  and  it  was  good 
to  recognize  and  acknowledge  it.  A  few  who  could  speak 
English  walked  with  me  to  my  lodgings,  along  the  quiet 
streets  in  the  full  moonlight  of  that  midsummer's  night. 


252  OUT-DOOR  LIFE  IN  EUROPE. 

And  thus  the  weeks  spent  in  Sunny  Spain  were  ended. 
They  began  in  missionary  circles,  and  with  them  and  the 
work  they  represent  the  interest  and  the 'charm  of  this 
romantic  land  will  ever  be  associated.  Its  noble  language, 
its  engaging  history,  its  varied  scenery  and  social  customs, 
its  undeveloped  resources  and  future  possibilities  form  a 
study  of  absorbing  interest.  Is  it  too  much  to  believe  that 
the  regenerative  force  of  the  gospel  will  yet  redeem  Spain 
from  her  painful  decrepitude  and  put  her  in  the  van  of 
ransomed  nations  ?  Sixty  years  raised  Greece,  we  are 
told,  from  the  position  of  a  beggar  and  a  slave  to  the  head 
of  the  self-educated  nations  of  Europe.  Civil  and  religious 
liberty  have  lifted  other  nations  lowest  in  their  wane  to  a 
bright  zenith,  and  secured  the  rehabilitation  of  such  as  have 
fallen  into  debasement  and  decay. 

The  harvests  of  this  once  happy  Iberian  Land  are  ripe; 
not  merely  the  maize  of  Aragon  and  Castilian  fields  of 
corn,  not  the  flocks  of  Leon  and  the  groves  of  orange, 
citron,  and  fig;  not  the  fruitful  lands  on  which  the  purple 
Pyrenees  fling  their  shadows,  or  those  of  Andalusia  and  the 
Paradise  of  the  Moors  where  winter  never  comes,  but 
spring  and  summer  ever  smile;  not  these  alone,  but  millions 
of  her  children  are  longing  for  better  things.  English 
ideas  are  taking  root.  The  simple  gospel  is  taught.  From 
breezy  "Biscay  to  the  pillars  of  Hercules  evangelists  and 
teachers  are  sowing  precious  seed,  and  some  have  brought 
home  the  sheaves.  The  towers  and  spires  that  once  red- 
dened with  the  glare  of  the  auto-da-fe  are  now  catching  the 
gleams  of  sunrise,  the  day-dawn  of  liberty  and  righteous- 
ness. Remembering  what  relations  America  sustains  to 
Spain — as  the  four-hundredth  anniversary  of  her  discovery 
is  celebrated — every  true  patriot  will  with  broadest  relig- 
ious sympathies  aid  in  lifting  this  once  noble  race  and 
putting  it  where  Isaiah  saw  it  in  Immanuel's  hosts — 

THE   SHIPS   OF  TARSHISH    FIRST  ! 


